Marshal On A Mission

“Have a drink with us this evening,” Tara said to her.

Trent had to bite back his surprise and disappointment. She was putting a buffer in place. It was the oldest trick in the book.

“Sure,” Siobhan said with an appreciative look at Trent.

“Okay,” Tara said. “Gloria’s Vino and Tacos at seven.”

A minute later a phone rang and Siobhan headed inside.

Shortly after that, a man who Trent pegged to be approximately sixty came out of the main house. His taller-than-average height and heavier build half hid the thin woman behind him until she moved slightly ahead of him. The woman’s high-heeled sandals and sundress, and his pale blue cotton pants and golf shirt completed a put-together look that made it clear they were going out.

The man’s dark eyes seemed to rake over Trent. But it wasn’t just a look, it was an assessment, an analyzing of who he was or who he might be.

“Carlos, Francesca, this is my friend Trent. Trent, my landlords.” Tara paused as they shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries.

“He’s here for a few days.”

“Where are you staying?” Francesca asked.

Trent didn’t look at Tara for he didn’t know what her reaction would be to what he was about to say. But now that he was here, there was no way he was not going to do his job and protect her. That meant being nearby. “I thought I’d bunk on Tara’s couch. A night or two,” he clarified.

He could almost feel her outrage. But to her credit, she said nothing.

He didn’t look at her but instead addressed the one thing that he was sure would be uppermost in her landlords’ minds—rent.

“I’ll pay...”

“No,” Carlos said. “I’m not charging for a few days on a hard couch. If you stay longer than that, we’ll work a deal.”

Carlos’s words seemed casual but despite that, Trent felt like he was under a spotlight in the way Carlos looked at him. He seemed to see through him as if he knew a secret about him, as if... The thought trailed off but not his suspicions about Carlos. He wasn’t a regular civilian despite his looks, dress and current profession. There was a look of assurance about him combined with cynicism that Trent had seen before and that piqued his interest.

“You’re sure you’ll be comfortable on her couch?” Francesca asked.

“We have rooms available,” Carlos said.

“I...” He squeezed Tara’s hand as she began to speak. He guessed that finally, she was about to contradict him. He leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. He didn’t have time to think about what he did or how it impacted her. He was just trying to swing things his way.

The kiss was short and his attention was just as quickly turned to the couple, who were now officially his landlords.

“Empty rooms because you refuse to advertise.” Francesca looked at Carlos with a frown.

Carlos laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve already talked about this, Frannie,” he said with a tone of gentle resignation. He turned his attention back to Trent and Tara.

“We’d visit with you,” Carlos said. “But Frannie and I will be late for the show.”

“What do you mean you’re staying on my couch?” Tara asked a minute later when the couple were gone. “You’re kidding me. We’re long over, Trent.”

“It’s not about that,” he said patiently. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. Your life could be in danger, even here. What you saw... These men could come after you. We can’t take the chance that whoever broke into your house isn’t tied to that robbery. If it was, they have your travel information, Tara. They know where you are.”

Her hand stopped in midair with the cup in her hand. She’d admitted an addiction to coffee only a few hours ago. He remembered her comment that had tailed the admission.

THERE’S NOTHING BETTER than a good cup of coffee in the morning.

Now she set the cup down with a bang. Coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, but her eyes remained on him. “You think they’d find me here?” Panic etched her words.

“It’s a possibility, Tara. We can’t discount it.” He covered her hand with his. “I don’t mean to frighten you but whether that’s the case or not, you’re a major threat. You saw one of their faces. That could put him in jail for a long time. Of course, they would have to know where you lived.”

“Oh no.” Her hand gripped his wrist as if the very touch would give her strength. “When my things dropped out of my purse that day, I lost my artists’ guild card.”

“What!”

“My things scattered onto the sidewalk and I lost my guild card. It had my picture, my address—everything he’d need to find me. And he was right there when I dropped it.” She looked at him with terror in her eyes. “That’s why I couldn’t stay. There was no way it was safe. They know who I am and you’re suggesting that there’s a chance they know where I am?”

Her hand flung sideways. The coffee cup fell over, sending the remains of her coffee across the table. Both of them ignored the trail of liquid that dripped off the edge. Their eyes were locked on each other.

He didn’t know what to say, not at first. What she’d said shocked him. It could bring the worst-case scenario to fruition. Her lips were pinched and her whole demeanor was troubled and yet there was something in the way she looked at him, in the way she no longer looked ready to bolt, that he hoped hinted at trust.

But the reality was that she also looked like she might be sick. “I was in such a rush.” She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and fear. “I played the odds and unfortunately, I was right. They found my home.” Her lips trembled.

He nodded. Not that he agreed with her action, but he could understand why she’d run. He wasn’t so sure that in the same circumstance, without a law enforcement background, that he might not have done the same, or at least considered it. It didn’t matter whether he agreed or not. Now he had to ensure her safety and to do that he needed her to be in complete agreement that she needed his protection.

“It was bad timing,” he said. “Fortunately, nothing was taken and the house wasn’t trashed. That leads to the conclusion that they were looking for something specific, or someone. That they were looking for you.”

Her hands were clenched in front of her and she looked more frightened now than anything else.

“I plan to bring you home, to a safe house, without delay.”

He knew his mistake as soon as he saw her look of panic. She wasn’t ready to be pushed this hard. It didn’t matter what she now knew—it wasn’t enough. She needed what little time he could give her to let reality set in. He’d seen witnesses react like this before, like the truth was overwhelming when provided all at once. Sometimes it had to be fed to them in small pieces, bit by bit, and then they needed what little time could be offered to digest their situation.

“No, Trent. No, I won’t go. Not yet.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

Cripes, he thought. What did she need? Her denial was too adamant. He needed her buy-in, or at least the start of a buy-in. “They saw your travel itinerary. If it was anyone associated with the robbery, they’d know you’re in Mexico. It would be that easy.”

She folded her arms and there was a set to her chin that wasn’t there before.

“They’ll find you, Tara. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but if they want you bad enough—”

“But they don’t know I’m here in San Miguel de Allende. Mexico is a big country.”

“Don’t they? A mention of San Miguel de Allende being an artist mecca was all it took for me to remember that you’d been here before—twice. I saw that on your social media feed posted three and four years ago. I found both references to San Miguel. That’s wiped now but anyone else could have seen it. They could guess that in Mexico you might return to a place that was familiar.”

“I never thought of that. I—”

“And now if they have your flight itinerary...” He let the sentence drop, let her reach her own conclusions.

“If...” But there was little resistance in the word.

“Mexico City was easy. You gave that one away. It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing and that is going to spell trouble. They’ll find you.”