More Than Life
By Neon Daises

Rating: M | Status: Completed | Genre: General/Action | Series: Sequel to More Than Eyes Can See Alone
Summary:  What if you left behind a life of brutality and a family that used you? What if you found a man who reminded you of that family, yet had a decent side as well? What if the family you left behind rose up to reclaim you?

Warnings: Adult language and violence.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Washington, D.C. – October 26th

   Sands was still a CIA agent.  While he was semi-amazed by this, and resentful of the knowledge that he was going to have a very attentive eye trained on him for most likely several years in the future, he wasn’t completely surprised.  The CIA didn’t take a very proactive position when it came to torturing its own agents for information, and Sands was the only one still alive that knew all the cookies that had crumbled in the failed Day of the Dead coup.  Hell, as far as Uncle Sam was concerned, he had done his job.  El Presidénte was still alive, Marquez was dead, the leader of a powerful cartel and his successor were dead (to the best of anyone’s knowledge), and the current Mexican government was apparently stronger than ever after the revealing of corrupt agents and the rally of the people around national identity.  It was enough to make Sands sick.

   No, I take that back.  These endless meetings are what’re getting to my stomach.  The constant inaction wore on him.  Most of the time he could manage to distract himself; annoying whatever bigwig was questioning him, playing out different scenarios in his head, imagining what he was going to do should he ever be sprung from the cold, impersonal walls of HQ . . . .

   The past month had been nothing but meetings.  Meetings and debriefs and medical pow-wows.  It was almost enough to make him swear off women all together, because they were the ones that had brought him to this.  This is all Ingrid’s fault.  Or more likely, her fault.  I’m tempted to track her down and make her pay for this.  It was a thought he’d been considering on and off over the past months.

   You’ve been considering it ever since you found out that she left.  That she left you alone, injured, and vulnerable.  It was one thing that she saw you in that condition; that she left in the care of strangers is nearly unforgivable.

   It was good that she left if I was being stupid enough to let myself be that dependent on her.

   You’re still ‘dependent’ on her, or you would have forgotten her long ago.  You have a hard time remembering the names of old girlfriends.  You need to resolve the situation surrounding her.

   The only situation I need to resolve is the fact that they’ve got me sitting around on my ass all day long.

  The doors to the conference room opened.  Sands didn’t bother looking up.  Instead, he took one last, defiant drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in an ashtray.  He purposely did a poor job, allowing the cigarette to smolder, trails of smoke rising in lazy columns.

   William Colton sighed as he took his seat at the table.  Sands, while undeniably brilliant, had never been approachable.  Colton knew his agent could be outgoing when he wanted, but even then he wore a threatening air that kept people at an arm’s length.  However, ever since he’d been retrieved from LA, his attitude had been strictly belligerent.  He was clearly dissatisfied, impatient for something.  Which was why this meeting was taking place.  Over the objections of the Agency doctors and some of the other directors, Colton had decided that it was time to send Sands back out into the field.

   “Agent Sands, it’s good of you to be here this morning.”

   “Cut the crap, Bill.  Why did you call me in?”  Sands finally looked up from his study of the table, squarely meeting his superior’s gaze.

   Colton didn’t even blink.  In the months that Sands had been back and raising hell amongst the ranks, he’d gotten used to the sight of the man’s now hazel-green eyes.  This morning, Sands eyes were their former color of coffee brown.  “The doctors already informed me that you were ready to start wearing contacts.”

   Sands grimaced, displeased when he didn’t get the reaction he’d been hoping for.  Doctors . . . busybodies, all of them.  “I take it I’m not here for more chitchat?  Because I think I should warn you that I’m chitted out.”

   “No.  Actually I – ” the door opened as another man came into the room.  Paul Strauss, Colton’s personal assistant, took a seat on the director’s right, laying his leather portfolio on the table.  Once the man was settled, Colton continued.  “I have an assignment for you.”

   Sands raised his eyebrows, interest making itself apparent on his face.  “It better not be busy work.”

   “No.”  The older man settled more comfortably into his chair.  “In the past three or four months, reports have been pouring in from our agents and contacts in Mexico.”  Sands’ face went blank as Colton continued.  “In the aftermath of last year’s failed Day of the Dead coup d’etat, the Barillo cartel was believed to be . . . inconsequential.  Fractured.  Moribund.  However, attempts by the other local cartels to take control of the territory were all violently repelled.  Now our agents in Guadalajara and Mexico City are sending news that not only is the Barillo cartel intact, but it seems to be gathering its forces to take over more territory.  They have their eyes set on expansion . . . something that our government wants to see fail.”

   Sands knew what was coming, and quite frankly, he was thrilled.  The chance to go back to Mexico and totally annihilate the Barillo cartel once and for all.  The ultimate revenge.  A part of him whispered that it was almost as good as getting revenge on her . . . on la niña.  “When do I leave?”

   “That all depends.”

   Oh my god.  Please tell me they don’t have a bunch of protocols for me to follow.  “On what?”

   Colton let his aide take over.  Strauss pulled a photo out of his portfolio and slid it across the table.  “We have reason to believe that you’ve come into contact with this woman in the past months.”

   Sands looked at the man, then picked up the picture.  It was a black and white surveillance photo.  The woman in it was completely unfamiliar.  He might be bad with names, but Sands never forgot a face; he’d never seen the woman in his life.  “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve never laid eyes on this woman.”  He tried to hand it back, but Strauss held up a hand to stop him.

   “I wasn’t asking if you’ve ever seen her.  We know that much.  But you have met her.  That’s Teresa Barillo, the woman who got you out of Mexico.”

   Sands felt genuine and unpleasant surprise wash over him as he looked at Strauss, then back down at the photo, studying the female who’d done so much to throw off his equilibrium, even though she’d tried not to.

   As Sands tried to burn the image into his retinas, he thought that he should have recognized her even though he’d never seen her.  He’d felt the contours of Tessa’s face the night before his surgery.  Even now he remembered the way her skin had felt.  And this picture . . .  There were hints of Barillo in her nose and cheekbones.  Her lips were full, but her mouth was wider that Ajedrez’s had been.  “What does she have to do with all this?”

   Colton took over the briefing.  “She’s the key.  Your way in.  Word is, the cartel has been conducting a quiet manhunt for her since December of last year – a month after you both arrived in LA.  We don’t know why, that’s why we need to get in contact with her.  We need to know why they’re looking for her and if she can get us in.  The idea is to get her inside, working with an agent to discover just what her family has in store.”

   “And that ‘agent’ would be me, correct?” 

   Colton nodded.  “We also want you to make contact with her.  We have reason to believe that she might listen to someone she knows.  If that doesn’t work, we send in the secondary contact, and if that doesn’t work . . . we’ll try to persuade her to work with us.”

   “So you’re going to use her.”

   Colton shrugged.  “The Barillo cartel cannot be allowed to gain that much power.  We have enough trouble even putting a dent into all the narcotics they traffic into the country.  If they take over the territory they have their eyes on, they’ll be nearly unstoppable.”

   Sands nodded, looking at the picture again.  “How long do I have to . . . contact her?”

   “We want to proceed with the operation by the new year.”  Strauss slid a manila folder across the table. 

   Sands took it in hand and stood, tucking the photo inside his jacket pocket.  With an ironic salute, he left the room.

   Strauss leaned over to Colton.  “What did that mean?”

   “It meant he’ll take the assignment.”

Tess swung her leg up to rest on the porch railing.  The railing was the perfect height - her leg was at a 90º angle to her body.  She'd just finished her evening jog and now she was ready to stretch.

   With a deep sigh, Tess bent over and tucked her intertwined fingers around her foot; her forehead rested on her knee.  As she counted to one hundred and twenty, she absently removed her ankle weight.  It dropped to the porch with a thud.  One-seventeen, one-eighteen, one-nineteen, one-twenty.  Standing up, Tess switched legs as the door opened.  She looked over her shoulder - Alma come out to join her.  "Buenos noches, chica."

   "Tía?  I need help with my math."  They'd only been in the states for less than a year, but Alma was nearing the point where Tess would say the girl was fluent in English.  Marcos was fluent - he'd leaned the language eagerly.  Alma had depended on stubbornness to learn it, René knew the English words for most things but delighted in refusing to speak any, and Selena could often be found babbling in a mixture of both languages.

   "What kind of help?"

   "Times tables."

   As Tess finished her stretching, she helped Alma run through her multiplication tables up to eight.  The last round gave her trouble, but she eventually got through it.  By the time Alma was comfortable with the 'eights', both woman and girl had moved to sit on the porch swing.  For awhile they sat in silence, watching the moon rise over the houses across the street.  Tess tried to spend a few moments alone with each child every day, and tried to be accessible, but she feared she wasn't very good at it.  Often she felt bewildered or overwhelmed.  If Cora hadn't come along, she didn't know what she would have done.

   "Tía?"

   "Sí, Alma?"

   "I don't want to go with Cora tomorrow."

   Ah.  Tomorrow.  Día los Muertos.  "Why not?"  The girl shrugged.  "Cora was going to have you all help her set up her altar, and then you were going to make candles and sugar rolls, and she ever dried some marigolds for you to arrange.  Doesn't that sound like fun?"

   "Yes . . . but . . . Máma and Pápa died last year on Día los Muertos."

   "And you're not sure you should be having fun?"  The girl shrugged, but Tess thought she was right.  "It's alright for you to keep living your life, chica."  Still no response.  "It's important that you remember them."

   "Then why can't we celebrate here?  Why are you sending us away?  Why aren't you coming with us?"

   Because I find no joy in remembering my family.  I find no joy in remembering that day.  "I have to work, chica."

   "But after that."

   "After that I'll have papers to grade."  Tess sighed.  "You'll have a better time without me.  But, I'll have my phone with me all day and you can call me at any time to talk, or to have me come get you, or whatever."  Tess really wanted to spend the day alone, contemplating everything that had happened in the past year, but the kids were important.  She had a duty to them, and she found she also wanted to . . . to be able to nurture them?  She didn't exactly know how to do that, but the past year hadn't been too painful where the kids were concerned.

   "Okay, Tía."

   A few more moments passed in silence before Tess realized how late it was getting.  "Are you done with your homework?"

   "No.  I have to read a chapter of my book."

   "Well, that needs to be done before bed, so in you go."  Tess watched as the girl went back inside, noticing that she'd donned a coat before coming out.  The kids were still used to Mexico's much warmer climate, and they didn't really like the cold.  But they like snow, so it balances out, I guess. 

   Balance . . . "The best way to predict the future is to invent it . . . Wise words.  I did that.  And it was all fun and games until someone got their eyes poked out."  Tess shivered and stood up.  Even after a year, that voice rang clear in her memory.  When would it leave?

   Stretching one last time, Tess looked over her neighborhood.  It was a quiet place filled with doctors and bankers and lawyers and their families.  All was peaceful and pristine . . . except for the car parked across the street.  People around here had nice cars that they kept in garages.  This car was nice enough . . . just out of place.

   Maybe the O'Connors have a child visiting or something.  Her neighbors across the street were empty nesters, although they seemed to miss having children around.

   Then why isn't the car in their garage?  They have the room.

   Maybe whoever owns the car is only here for a short visit.

   Then they would have parked in the driveway.  Besides, that car has been parked there off and on for the past three days.

   You lie.

   No, I keep my eyes peeled so you don't end up dead.

   Tess had had enough.  You're being paranoid.  There's no need for that.  Jessica and Logan are the only ones who know I'm here, and they both know I'd like to keep that private.  The cartel doesn't shadow for days on end - they find out just enough information to come in and kill you.  Besides, there's no one left in Mexico who wants me around.

   That's why you fled, right?  And who said anything about your family?  What about Sands?  You know he's dangerous.  What if he's tracked you down and is planning on killing you on the anniversary of the day your family essentially killed him?

   No.  No one is out to get me.  No one is spying on me.  I'm not that interesting.  And now I want to go inside.  It's getting crowded out here.  Tess went to her front door and opened it, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at the car despite all her words.  There was no reason to be paranoid, but there wasn't a reason to be careless either.  It's nothing.  Her mind made up, Tess stepped inside her home and locked the door behind her.

Sands lowered his camera as he restlessly chewed on some gum.  He'd much rather smoke, but smoke stung his eyes in close quarters and he couldn't roll down a window because that would attract attention to himself - attention he couldn't afford at the moment.

   Speaking of his eyes, they were burning anyway.  As much as Sands appreciated being able to wear contacts, they were a pain in the ass at the moment.  With an irritated sigh he removed them, placing them in their little container.  The world immediately went grainy and completely out of focus.  It wasn't as bad as things had been during his recovery, but it was a dangerous position to be caught in.  He quickly put on his glasses, relaxing as things became clear again.  Once the house settled for the night, he'd go back to the hotel and develop his roll of film.

   He didn't have long to wait - a fact for which he was grateful.  In a little over an hour the last light blinked out.  Finally.  Sands started his car and drove off, reviewing his plans for the next day.

   It was only a ten minute drive to his hotel.  Unlocking the door to his room, Sands walked in and threw his coat on the bed, heading directly to the bathroom.

   One of the reasons he'd chosen to stay here had been the bathroom.  It had two sinks - one to use for normal things, one to for developing his pictures.  In the six days that he'd been in town, Sands had already developed several rolls of film.  Most of the pictures were of his quarry, but pictures of others had sneaked in.  There were several of the kids and the housekeeper - one Cora Mendez, daughter of Gregory and Christina (Tina) Mendez.  Tina Mendez was Logan's personal assistant, and possibly the only person he'd met in LA that hadn't pissed him off.  She wasn't bad looking, but she didn't hold Sands' interest either.  He'd bugged the house three days ago when everyone had been out, and he had to admit that the woman's phone conversations were not all that interesting.  Not as interesting as the fact that Tess could often be found muttering to herself when she was alone.

   He had felt a bit of guilt about wiring the house, but to allay that, he hadn't planted any cameras.  Instead he settled on following the routines of the house's inhabitants.  Tomorrow morning he planned on sneaking into one of Tessa's morning classes before setting things into motion.  Information was good, and he wanted to make sure he had enough before confronting her.  Information like when the best time to get Tess alone was, what kind of car she drove, where she worked, where the kids were during the day - anything that would help.

   It'd paid off.  Yesterday he'd overheard that both the housekeeper and the kids were going to be out of the house for the Day of the Dead, but that Tess was going to be at the house.  Alone.  It was perfect, really.  Almost ironic.

   Tomorrow he'd put his plan into action.  And on November 3rd, then he'd get down to CIA business.

"Professor?"

   Tess jumped back to herself, somewhat ashamed to be caught with her mind wandering.  "Sorry.  Yes, you had a question?"  Semi-reluctantly, she moved her eyes from the man in the back row who had warning bells going off in her head, and looked at the girl who'd apparently had her hand raised for some time.

   "Yes." Standing, the girl help up a copy of some medical journal.  "I was reading this last month, and when you started the unit on transplants, I remembered reading about this.  It was written by a doctor in California who was recently granted permission to -"

   Tess held up a hand to stop the girl.  Med students, she thought in exasperation.  Of all the things to bring up today.

   Yes.  One might think that someone doesn't want you to forget what you were doing at this time last year.

   It's only 9 am.  At this time last year, I was having breakfast.

   And waiting for the slaughter to begin.  "I've heard about that . . . experiment, Leslie."  I should hope so.  After all, you supplied the guinea pig.  "I believe I've even read that same article.  You don't need to go into further detail.  What is it that you wanted to ask?"

   "I was wondering how you felt about how quickly Dr. Pierce got permission to start human trials.  Looking at the body of data he collected beforehand, it doesn't seem as if he should have been allowed to proceed with human trials for another few years."

   "It's true that Dr. Pierce had only, what was it?  Seven trials before getting government approval?"  The girl nodded.  "Alright.  However, in each of those trials, the data gathered was almost identical.  Just like in any other transplant procedure, as long as the donor eyes are compatible, the host body won't reject them.  What actually took the longest was developing the drugs that regenerated the nerves and tendons.  And ever with the tens of thousands of dollars that went into that research, I believe the article states that there were unforeseen interactions between the different medications."  Tess sighed and took a seat on the table in the front of the room, crossing her legs at the ankle.  "Now's not the time I would have chosen to get into this, but. . . ."

   Sands watched from the back of the room as Tess described the events of last winter with as few details and as little emotion as she could.  Every word out of her mouth was both clinical and diplomatic.  He resisted the urge to scratch as the glue holding on his fake beard and eyebrows started to irritate his skin.  The tweed jacket he'd picked up at some secondhand store itched as well, but he could put up with that.  After all the months of recovery and boredom, it was good to be back in the game . . . even if he may have gone overboard on the glue.

   Tess was clearly in her element here.  She ran through the facts of his case without ever hinting that she'd been there to experience any of it firsthand.  After a few minutes, Sands tuned out what she was saying, examining her instead.  This was the closest he'd gotten to her since she'd left - the first time that he was staring at her without the aid of a camera lens.

   He had to admit that she wasn't the worst looking female he'd ever seen, but she wasn't her sister either.  At the moment her hair was tucked into some kind of knot behind her head, not a single strand escaping or misbehaving.  Not that he'd expected otherwise.  Tess was a woman who liked things to stay tidy - her appearance should always reflect that, at least in public.  The privacy of her own home might be another matter altogether.

   Her clothing was simple and chosen to keep attention from being drawn to herself.  She was wearing charcoal grey dress with a turtleneck, and had a black jacket on over that.  The only adornments she was wearing was a pair of glasses with oval frames and a silver wristwatch.  No rings, no earrings, no necklace.

   For the most part, this morning class was silent, occasionally asking a question, but not showing any of the energy that normally characterized college students.  Monday mornings get to everyone, I suppose.  Sands met Tessa's eyes as she glanced up at him again.  Undoubtedly, she was trying to figure out what he was doing there.  He was confident that she had no clue as to who he was - not with the blond beard and wig - and his appearance would be too out of context for her to figure out why he made her uneasy.

   Finally, a buzzer on the table went off.  Students packed up their materials as Tess reminded them of reading assignments.  Sands waited as students filed out of the lecture hall, sitting until he and Tess were the only ones in the room.  She was openly staring at him now, standing in a position that clearly communicated her uncertainty.  When she opened her mouth to question him, Sands stood an went out a nearby door, leaving her in the room with her mouth open.

As Tess packed away her papers and files for the day, her mind drifted back to the strange man who'd been in her nine o'clock class.  She was still trying to decide whether he'd really been there or if she needed to see her doctor about adjusting her medication dosage.  She'd gone so far as to walk to the chair he was sitting in and feel the seat to see if it was warm or not.  It had been, and Tess grasped this evidence that she wasn't hallucinating, but . . . something about him hadn't been right.

   Did you catch the way he was looking at you the entire class?

   This is a college, and I'm a professor.  Most of the people in me classes 'look' at me the entire time they're in here.

   Yes, but most of them don't send shivers down your spine.

   Neither did he.

   But he almost did.  I could feel the impending shivers.  I'm telling you that he was no good.

   Well, if he shows up again tomorrow, I'll call security, alright?

   I don't think he's dangerous . . . he just reminded you of someone you're trying hard - but unsuccessfully - to forget.

   That man looked nothing like Sands.  Besides, the last I heard -  she stopped herself.  She didn't want to admit that she'd been keeping her ears open for news of the man.

   What did you hear?

   It's not important.

  It is if you remembered.  Relax, it's not like I'm asking you to talk to me out loud.  Just a little admission.

   I don't owe you anything.  Besides, I should be focusing on other things today.

   Like keeping your mind off Sands?  Understandable.  The man did get under your skin.  He was important to you.  And then you left him

  Yes.  I left him.  I left him knowing that he'd hate me if I stayed and he'd despise me if I left, but I chose what was easier for me.  It'd be easier for me to leave and never have to see that hate in his eyes.  I've seen that expression in too many faces to subject myself to it again.  Thank you for bringing this up, and for pointing out what a horrible person I am, and for sticking your nose in where it's not wanted.  Now, if you would kindly go to sleep until I need you?

   Picking up her briefcase, Tess left the classroom she'd been debating herself in, and went to her car, determined to get home and relax.  The sooner she moved on to other things, the sooner her voice and her mind would let her forget what'd happened a year ago.

Sands looked around Tessa's house as he waited for her to arrive home.  Other people might not be able to glean insight into people from their surrounding, but Sands could.  The first thing he noticed was the prominence of several decorating themes throughout the house.  Now, this was something that an interior designer knew to do, but he suspected it was simply an extension of Tessa's personality.  Another thing he noticed was the lack of clutter, and what clutter was around was specialized clutter.  There was a wicker basket for shoes by the front door.  The magazines in the living room were arranged in a magazine rack according to title and issue.  The spice rack in the kitchen had all the spices arranged alphabetically.  The books in the bookcases followed the Dewy Decimal system.  And this was mild compared to what things were like in her room.

   Sands had spent an hour in there.  Clothes were hung up - all of them.  Even her jeans hung from hangers.  And not only were they hung up, but they were arranged according to fabric, color, and season they were meant to be worn in.  Shoes were lined up in pairs.  Her sock drawer was arranged by color.  In the linen closet in her bathroom, there were seven sets of towels - each set containing a bath sheet and a smaller towel, both matching in color.  Her CDs were arranged alphabetically by artist and divided into different genres.  There wasn't a single item in that room that looked as if it'd been set down without lots of consideration.  Sands wondered if Tess was obsessive/compulsive.  That might explain why she was always quoting things.

   He checked his watch.  It was getting close to the time when she should be home.  He'd better get downstairs.

Tess parked her car in the driveway.  It was warm for November, something for which she was grateful.  She enjoyed cold weather, but she hadn't realized how much she'd also miss the milder winter of Mexico.  Although, that's about all I miss.  I certainly don't miss the summers.  Tess walked to the end of the driveway and retrieved her mail.  There was a couple bills, two or three children's magazines, her copy of Newsweek, and a large, unaddressed manila envelope.  What's this?

   A present from the Unibomber.  I wouldn't open that if I were you.

  Tess slowly walked back to the house, looking over the package.  That's ridiculous.  It's not something from the Unibomber.  They caught him a few years ago, remember?

   Fine.  But don't come crying to me when you don't like what's in that package.

   Opening her front door with her keys, Tess asked, Why wouldn't I like what's in here?

   Remember the last manila envelope you opened?  Tess knew exactly what the voice was talking about.  The night that Logan had come over.  His admission that he'd had someone digging into her past.  You should have done something about that.  It's not safe to let people find out whatever they want about you.

   She closed the door and locked it behind her.  He's a friend.  She'd known that she wasn't going to like whatever had been in the envelope, but she'd opened it, and rummaged through the papers anyway.  Only one document had been important enough to look at immediately; her birth certificate.  And in the end, she probably would have been better off without ever finding it.

   Barillo.  He branded you.  From beyond the grave, he reached out to make a misery of your life one last time.  In one second, you discovered that you were never going to be able to leave your father behind, because he is a part of you and he recognized that.  You're still fighting it though.  I don't know why.  You can't win in the end.

   Tess set her briefcase down by the front door, hanging her keys from the key rack.  If any part of my is my father, then it's you.  You're the one always pushing me to do things I'd never consider on my own.  You're the one laying guilt and suspicion.  You're the one always telling me that I can never truly escape my family, even though they're dead.  Tess realized just how long she'd been debating her voice.  Oh my goodness, she thought. Look.  A quiet evening at home is all I'm asking for.  As she stripped off her jacket and hung it from the coat rack, she asked, Can I at least have that?

   I don't know.  I suppose that depends on you.  After that, the voice was silent. 

   Tess kicked off her shoes, glad to be rid of the things, but suspicious that her voice wasn't going to give up that easily.  If her thoughts kept returning to the Day of the Dead, no matter how she tried to redirect them, she doubted that she'd get much peace tonight.  It's rather warm today.  It was warm that day too, she thought as she walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

   Yeah, hot just like you're hot for Sands.  Will you just admit it already?

   Where had that come from?  What the hell are you talking about?

   We both know it's true.  No other man has managed to weasel his way into your thoughts for the past year.  You seclude yourself from other adult  company.  You dream about him -

   Because of you.

   The voice ignored her.  Admit it.  You never wanted to leave.  You wanted to stay.  You wanted to be by his side during his recovery.  You wanted his company, even though you knew he would have done nothing but ignore you, verbally abuse you, and perhaps use you.  I really do think you're a masochist.  Who willingly puts up with that sort of thing?

   One would think you've dulled me to that sort of abuse by now.  But for the sake of argument, let's say you're right.  Let's say that I wanted to stay with Sands.  What would have happened eventually?  One of us would have left, and then it really would have hurt.  And I would be alone.

   The voice was cloying, mocking.  Ah, but you are alone.  Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?  Then in a more matter-of-fact voice, it continued, You really should have laid him when you had the chance.

   You're not helping.

   You're boring

   "Shut up.  You're not being helpful or successful, so give it up."  Tess looked down to discover that not only had she gotten a bottle of water from the fridge, but she'd make herself a snack as well.  I really have to start paying attention to what I'm doing.  "Why am I even talking to you?  You're not real."

   I'm as real as you make me.

   How comforting.  Sitting at the bar, Tess opened her bottle of water and took a sip.  Sighing and taking a bite of the apple she'd cut up, she opened the envelope that'd been in her mailbox.  When she saw the note on top of the stack of papers she pulled free, Tess froze.  "I'm watching."  Those were the only words on the letter, but they were enough to give her a very bad feeling. 

   What else is there?  The voice sounded distinctly cheerful.

   Tess fought to keep her hands from trembling as she looked at the stack of photographs she found under the letter.  They were pictures of her, of her kids, her house, her car.  With each new photo, Tess felt dread and panic fighting for dominance of her mind.

   Some cultures believe that if someone takes your picture, they've stolen your soul.  What do you think, Teresa?  If your soul isn't gone, has something else been taken in its place?  Or has something replaced it?  Wouldn't it be interesting if  I was what had replaced your soul?

   "No," she whispered.  Getting up, she set the pictures on the counter.  I should call the police or something. . . .

   You're being watched, Teresa.  There's someone in the house.  Turn around before death sneaks up on you.  Tess spun around and screamed as her voice was proven right.

Sands had to contain his surprise as Tess finally turned in his direction.  The scream had been a surprise - he didn't think it was possible to overset Tess that much.  The woman had always seemed somewhat controlled - in a very scatterbrained sort of way.  Then, when she turned to run, he jumped after her, grabbing her arm to stop her from running off.  True, he wanted her unsettled, but not terrified.  "Calm down, conejo."

   Rabbit?  Tess froze as the familiar nickname reached her ears.  Shaking her head, trying to clear a space to think amongst the demands for flight and the gleeful delight of her other side, she looked down, still poised to free herself should she need to.  Slowly she looked at the hand locked around her elbow, then traveled up the arm to the shoulder.  Swallowing, she looked at the man's face, not going so far as to look in his eyes.  She was nowhere near ready for that.

   Come off it.  You know it's Sands.

   I don't like sand.  I never even go to the beach, she thought bewilderingly.  What makes you think this is a good thing?  Out loud, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

   Sands smirked at the uncertainty in Tessa's voice.  He wanted to have the upper hand - it was clear that he had it.  Tess was frozen as still as a statue, although she was standing as far from him as possible.

   "What?  No quote for the occasion?"  Slowly, Sands stepped closer to Tess - she retreated.

   "I can't seem to think of one that would be appropriate.  No."

   "Isn't it possible I just dropped by to say 'hello'?  To take you our for dinner for saving my life?"

   Tess laughed disbelievingly.  "The cross on his breast, and the devil in his heart."

   Sands kept walking, forcing Tess to keep retreating before him.  "Is that any way to treat an old friend?" he asked.

   "I wasn't aware that we were friends.  I was under the distinct impression that you hated me."  Tessa's gaze had sunk to the floor, watching his feet as he kept walking towards her.

   "Well, yes, I suppose there is that," he murmured.  Finally he'd managed to back her into a wall.  The moment she realized she'd been corralled, Tess tried to bolt, darting to the side while trying to pull out of his grasp.  Sands had been prepared for that.  He grabbed her other elbow before she could even make a proper escape attempt.  Now that he had her fully under control, he made a soft 'tsk-tsk' sound.  "Just try to relax, chiquita."

   Yeah, right.  Tess could feel the impulse to fight throbbing demandingly at the back of her head, but she contained it.  If there was one thing she'd learned under her father, it was that fighting never helped.  The only reason to fight would be if one was reasonably sure they would win, or if death was a preferable option.  Things hadn't reached that point yet.

   Told you.  I knew you wanted him.

   If this is desire, then I'd be perfectly happy to become a nun.

   This isn't desire . . . yet.  But you're not running, are you?

   I have nowhere to run to.  He's in my home.  Tess flinched as Sands reached for her face.

   "Shh.  I'm not going to hurt you."  He reached for her again, and again she tried to pull away.  "What's got you so upset, niña?"

   What has me upset?  "Let's see.  You've invaded the only home I've ever been able to create for myself.  You've been spying on me.  You scared me out of my wits.  Oh, yes.  And the last time I found myself in this position, you held a gun to my head, nearly strangled me, and did your best to give me a concussion."

   "Hmm . . . I seem to remember there being a bit more to things than that."

   Tess knew what he was talking about, but refused to comment on it.  "You never answered my question."

   "And which question was that?"

   "Why are you here?"

   "Well, that's where things get interesting," he drawled.  "You see, I seem to remember you offering me a pity fuck.  I also seem to remember turning you down at the time."  He finally managed to grab her chin.  He pulled her head up to face him, but she diverted her eyes.  Fine.  "I've decided that was foolish and have come to collect, now that I'm fully capable of . . . appreciating . . . what you offered."

   "Too late.  I don't pity you any more."  She'd never pitied him.  Tess fought the shivers running up and down her spine.  "Are you going to let me go, or were you planning on raping me?"

   "While that might have its advantages, I really don't think things will come to that, chiquita."

   "The hell it won't."  Sands didn't reply, which made Tess nervous.  "I'm serious Sands.  I was never offering you a 'pity fuck'.  I was offering you revenge.  My half-sister screwed you over.  I thought might have appreciated the opportunity to do the same . . . that my body might have served as a substitute for hers."  Still he said nothing.  All he did was stare at her, which unnerved her because she wasn't used to him being able to see, much less be able to see her.  With each passing second of silence, Tess felt her desperation increase.  "Okay, it might have been a crazy idea, but I have a good excuse for that."  She was babbling and she knew it.  "Damnit, Sands!  Say something."

   She felt the heat of his body as he used pure physical proximity to intimidate her.  "Well, you see, niña, that's all fine and good, but I've already gotten revenge on Ajedrez.  I'm here for a different type of revenge."  He grinned as she swallowed at his words.  "Do you know what its like to have someone watching your every move?  Seeing you at your most vulnerable moments?  What it's like to be forced to depend on someone?"  Tess felt his breath brush over her cheek, burning the nerve-endings; she smelled the cigarette smoke on his clothing.  She hated him as she felt some of her desperation turn into something else.  "Have you ever experienced the self-consciousness that come with bumbling around in the dark, knowing that people are judging you?"

   Yes.  "What does that have to do with me?"

   "You were that person, niña.  Maybe you didn't mean to be, but you were.  You made me dependent on you.  You witnessed my private nightmares."  His vice-like grip on her arm loosened.  Tess pulled her arm free, resenting the grip on her chin that kept her in place.  "I really should hate you for it, for being so nice.  So understanding.  But I don't, which for some reason makes it difficult for me to simply kill you."  You're too pure for that.  I'll settle for making you hate me, and then I can forget about you.  Because at the moment, I can't get you out of my head.  Couldn't stop wondering what she would look like without clothing, what sounds she'd make as pleasure swamped her nervous system, if she would despise him in the morning, or if it'd take longer than that.

   Tess knew enough to realize that anything that happened tonight would not be about him, or about her, but about revenge - just as he'd said.  Domination.  She'd had control over him, and no matter what good had come from that, it was a thought that couldn't be borne by the man in front of her.

   You stayed too long.  Took too much.  He's come to collect his due, which I might add, isn't all that unappealing.

   Yes.  It is.  It's just another form of manipulation, of control.  I won't let him have that over me.  Whether he realizes it or not, he already owns part of me, but I refuse to let him take that part.

   You could give it to him.

   "Screw you."  Having said that, Tess grabbed Sands' wrist in her hand and wrenched herself free of his grip, taking off running the moment she was loose.  For the first time, she wondered if tiling had been the way to go in the hallway instead of carpet; she'd taken off her shoes, but she was still wearing her stockings.  Slipping over the floor, she looked over her shoulder as she ran for the nearest room with a lock.  Crap.  Sands was coming after her.  Ok.  Maybe pissing the man off wasn't the best course of action.

   Corner!  Remember the corner.  Tess tried to turn to avoid colliding with the wall, and she might have succeeded if her foot hadn't slipped out from underneath her due to an unreliable throw rug.  She slammed into the wall, the side of her head making a sick 'thunk' as it hit.  Tess literally saw stars as tears came to her eyes.

   Slowly she slid to the floor, a hand searching out the spot on her head which was sure to swell.  "Ouch."  Tess heard Sands' footsteps as he approached her, saw his feet come into view. 

   Tess sat on the floor and waited for Sands to say something, but all that reached her ears was silence.  Even so, she got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her.  When he crouched down in front of her, she looked away, knowing she needed to hold a certain image of him in her head.  If she were confronted with a new face to memorize, she'd be lost.

   Sands watched as Tess slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, still avoiding his eyes.  The way she swayed made him wonder if she'd actually done damage to herself.  Better check.  Sands reached out with his right hand to see how much of a lump she had, but Tess jerked away, pressing herself against the wall.  "Ok, I know that I've hit you once, but I was also on medications and had just received some disturbing news.  Unless you're planning to tell me that the cartel is now under your leadership, I think I can guarantee that I won't hurt you."  Her breath left in a huff, but she submitted to his examination, flinching in pain as he probed the lump on her head. 

   "There's no need for torture, Sands."  There's no need for any of this.  "Look, just take what you want and get out of here.  I won't fight."

   Why do I get the feeling that the intelligence on her wasn't complete? Sands wondered.  Most normal women don't volunteer to submit while a man rapes them.  Which is not how this is going to end.  No matter how much he wanted to pay Tess back for . . . for everything, he didn't have the stomach for that.  Besides, the entire point was to get her to trust him, and for him to then betray that trust.  The plan may have to be put on hold for a bit.  "Well, as interesting and gracious as that is, I'm afraid that it just won't do."

   Ah.  Finally a reaction.  Tess looked up, started and confused by this statement.  The moment her eyes met his, he felt his own bolt of surprise jolt through him.  When she'd said her eyes were blue, she hadn't been kidding, and black and white photos didn't do them justice.  He'd seen Barillo's eyes - they'd been blue, but more of a grey-blue.  Tessa's eyes were a deep blue, the contrast startling against her dusky skin.  And at the moment, they were full of confusion and a hint of turmoil.

   Tess knew the moment her eyes met his, that she'd made a gigantic mistake.  It was shocking enough to see eyes where once there'd been nothing but gaping wounds.  That those eyes were a dark shade of chocolate brown, the same color she'd always wished her eyes were . . . it was too much.  She felt the desperation and panic inside her melt and reform into something else - something with her voice at the center.

   You know, he really is quite attractive.

   Yes.

   Tess was staring at him in much the same way a mongoose might stare at a cobra - if the mongoose were demented enough to consider allying with a poisonous snake.  Maybe he wouldn't have to postpone his plan after all.  "I have a deal for you, niña."

   Deals with demons . . .

   The most interesting kind.  Listen to the man.

   I don't think that's a good idea.

   You don't think anything's a good idea.  I want to have some fun.

   I'm the one who'll have to deal with the consequences.

   Yeah, but I'm the one who'll have to listen to you whine.  Shut up and listen.

   "What kind of deal?"

   Ah.  His niña was scowling at him.  And perhaps if he had thought that she meant it, he would have been upset.  "It's simple really.  You give me one kiss and if you still want me to leave after that, I will."  Crap, he couldn't wait to get her into bed.  Couldn't wait to fuck her senseless.

   Ok . . . how much can one kiss change things? Tess wondered. 

   It won't.  It won't change a thing.  Just do it and get the man out of your hair, if that's what you really want.  Her eyes darted down to glance at his lips, then returned to meet his gaze.  She examined his eyes for any hint that he was trying to trick her, but she couldn't read him.  His face gave nothing away, his eyes just watched her with amusement as if he really couldn't care less what happened next.

   Touch him.  Tess reached out hesitantly, withdrawing her hand before actually touching his skin.  She remembered what it felt like.  You remember, but is it still the same?  Swallowing hard, she brushed the tips of her fingers against his temple - yes, his skin was still soft and warm.  Her hand seemed to take on a life of its own as she watched, transfixed as her fingertip traced the ridge of bone surrounded his eye socket.  Any bruising left from the surgery had long since faded, but she could imagine what it would have looked like.  Her eyes drifted to his lips again.

   "Just a kiss?"  Was that my voice? she wondered as she stroked the sensitive skin just below his bottom lip. 

   Sands wondered who she was trying to fool.  Yes, she sounded uncertain and more than a bit helpless, but he could see her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, could see her increased heart-rate shaking her body.  Could feel the heat radiating from her lithe body.  Could hear the very reluctant desire in her voice.

   "Stop playing, niña.  If you keep teasing any longer, the deal will be off."  She knew that was true, could hear a note of strained control in his voice.  One could only push a man so far before his control snapped, and she had no desire to see that happen.  There was just one problem - she'd never been the first one to make a move before.  Yeah, she'd been kissed once or twice (which was really pretty sad for a woman of thirty-one), but the guy had always been the one to start things.  Sands was going to know she had next to no experience, and he was going to laugh at her.

   "I'm waiting, Tessa."  Gathering her resolve, she pulled his head down an inch or so and raised her face to meet his.  It was a gentle kiss, hesitant and sexy.  The moment she felt his lips meet hers softly, something in her snapped, sending her mental platform listing to one side.  Her internal balance thrown off, she felt the rational side of her mind collide with the bit that was always pushing her, always whispering, always making suggestions.  It leaped at the chance to grab hold of her, not necessarily taking control, but definitely reveling in the opportunity to spread its influence and transmit its own desires.

   Before she knew what she was doing, Tess had tilted her head, parting her lips to tease his.  At some point, her decision to ask him to go changed.  Now all she wanted was for him to stay, to chase off some of the loneliness and continual guilty isolation.  As she placed soft, suckling kisses on his mouth, she wondered, Why isn't he doing anything?  Mildly annoyed, she slid one hand into his hair - it was tied back.  Always making things difficult.  Leaning closer so their bodies were separated by only a thin strip of air, she worked with deft fingers to remove the hair tie.  She knew she'd succeeded when she felt his hair fall down around her hand.  Never before had she found long hair on a man sexy, but on him it worked.

   Sexy?  What?  For a moment time froze.  Tess was aware of the conflicts inside her own mind; of the part demanding the feel of Sands' body on top of hers, of the part screaming warnings that was rapidly diminishing, and of the part watching the chaos in pleasure.  She started to shake.  What am I doing?

   Pleasure . . . her voice whispered, tormented.  This feels good, not like the last time.  I want this.  Pleasure and warmth.  I've never felt that, and you deny me the opportunity.  Well, I'm a part of you, and if I want this, then you want it too.  Without you, I can't feel this.  Just give in.  Sands isn't the type of man to stick around for more than a night, it persuaded.  Just this once and he'll leave and I promise to never bring him up again.  Just one night. 

   Tess felt herself agree, give in.  To her surprise, her other side still didn't take control.  Rather, it held her close, clinging to her, desperate to feel . . . to feel human.  She heard a whimper escape her as for a single moment, the sensation of feeling things twice over became nearly unbearable.  But the pleasing anguish faded, leaving her just Tess, just kneeling in a hallway, just kissing a man like she'd never done so before.

   Sands was trying very hard not to slam Tess back against the wall and end this rather delightful torture.  No.  He had planned her downfall, had planned what he would do to make her beg and plead for him to finally dominate her, thereby filling the need he'd created.  Yes, stick to the plan.  You in control, not her.  Never her, not again.  He pulled away from her gentle yet incredibly arousing ministrations.  "That's enough bambina.  I think I can take it from here."

Sands woke the next morning as the sun rose.  Ever since he’d regained his sight, he’d been unable to sleep much past sunrise.  It seemed wrong to waste daylight somehow.  So as the clock clicked to seven, Sands opened his eyes and looked at the woman he’d spent the last evening with.

   To his great surprise, she was still asleep.  He couldn’t remember her sleeping this long or this peacefully in his presence before.  Guess we found the cure for her nightmares, he smirked.  Sands carefully examined the picture she made in her sleep, gathering what information from her position that he could.  Her back was to him, and she had scooted as close to the edge of the bed as she could without falling off.  She was careful to guard herself from him even in her sleep, but the fact that she was still there said a lot in itself.  She disliked him, and very likely didn’t trust him, but she didn’t dislike him enough to leave the room and she didn’t distrust him enough to stay awake.  Perhaps things would be easier than he’d expected.

   Stretching, lazily considering taking up the attack immediately, Sands froze as he heard footsteps outside the door.  All thoughts of a bit of indulgent fun slipped from his head.  Silently, he reached over and freed his gun from its holster, cocking it and aiming at the door.  Whoever was out there would be dead before they had the chance to cause any mischief.  But he had the feeling that he knew who it was . . . or at least what agency they were from.

   His suspicions were proved right when the door inched open to reveal a blond in a nice suit.  Sands gave Inge an insolent grin as he set his gun aside.  He lazily scratched his chest as he watched her face slowly turn red.  Not only did I get laid by ‘la niña,’ but I get to tick Rochester off as well.  To birds for the price of one.

   The blond doctor felt humiliation swamping her.  For the past seven months or so, she’d been trying to get Sands back into her bed just so she could kick him out, and now she found him wearing nothing but a smile and a sheet in a bed where Tess – her rival – seemed be equally unclothed.  It didn’t take a doctorate to surmise what had happened the night before.  First Logan, now Sheldon.  How does she do it?  It didn’t matter how she did it.  Tess wouldn’t be doing it again.  This was the last time the Latina ever beat her to anything.

   With a look of disgust, Inge pointed downstairs emphatically, then left the room.

   Sands let his smirk fade from his face; it was his turn to be disgusted.  The CIA had sent a fucking babysitter after him to ensure the job got done.  Damn.  Knowing Inge, she’d probably mention this cozy domestic scene to someone.  She’d always been one to stick her aristocratic nose where it wasn’t wanted.  Not to mention she could be more than a bit petty when she felt that she’d been insulted.  Not at all like Te. . . .  Sands rolled out of bed, found his boxers and jeans, and put them on.  Not bothering with shirt or shoes – but retrieving his gun – he went downstairs, leaving any sympathetic feelings for Tess behind.  One couldn’t pity a puppet they were about to use, and this morning was going to completely smash any ‘delicate feelings’ between them.  Which was exactly what he wanted.

   Wasn’t it?

*************************

   Tess woke slowly as her mind floated through different levels of wakefulness.  First she became aware of how much light was hitting her closed eyelids, then that the house was quiet, that her skin was amazingly sensitive, and that she smelled . . . Coffee?

   Well, at least he has the decency to do that much.

   The voice sounded extremely awake, which was never a good thing.  It usually meant that it’d been plotting as she’d slept.  What? Tess thought groggily.

   Sands.  No response.  You are aware that you’re completely naked under the covers, aren’t you?

   Sands?  Tessa’s eyes popped open as she became fully awake and fully aware of what she’d done the night before, both at her voice’s urging, and because part of her had wanted to be close to someone once without pain.  Twisting in her bed in panic, Tess searched the room for Sands.  Fuck. 

   Yes.  Exactly.  The voice sounded irritatingly gleeful.  I’m glad to see you remember what happened last night.  What we did.

   We?  Sands wasn’t in the room.  He wasn’t there, but that simply made the buzz of panic in her muscles increase.  If she couldn’t see him, then she didn’t know what he was doing.  And she couldn’t see his reaction, then she didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing in this situation.  She could deal with other things, had learned to shut down part of her mind in order to deal with certain situations.  But this?  This was new.  She didn’t know where to store the memories or the feelings.  That was never good.  Especially now.  She needed to know what to do, how to act.  Unconsciously, her hand started tapping agitatedly on the bed.  WhatdoIdo, whatdoIdo, whatdoIdo?

   Calm down, tiger.  Go get dressed.  Tess got out of the bed, trembling in shock.  It wasn’t that bad, Teresa.  Her voice stretched like a contented cat.  Besides, what makes you think that he’s still in the house?

   Tess pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor.  I think that, because that isn’t my t-shirt lying on the floor.

  Oh.  Maybe I was wrong.  Tess picked up the shirt and went into her walk-in closet, closing the door behind her.  She put the shirt in her clothes hamper because that’s where dirty clothes went.  She knew that.  That’s right, the voice soothed, now get dressed.  If he is still here, you don’t want to be caught naked.  That would mean you’re defenseless.  And I don’t intend on letting what happened last night to become a regular occurrence.  Or at least not with him.  I can keep things in perspective – you’ll fall in love, and that’s on my list of “no-no’s”.

   Tess pulled on a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater.  She had chills racing down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature or even her voice.  There was ambient noise in her head, and that’s what she feared.  She needed just the one voice.  As much as she grumbled, as much as it irritated her, it at least could help.  The other voices were trouble.  What did you mean by ‘we?’ 

   I mean exactly what it sounds like.  You and I both agreed that the best thing to do would be to go to bed with Sands.  And we did.  And it was very good.  Remember?  The voice pleasantly sent a bolt of sensation through her.  Tessa’s knees went weak for a moment as she went into the bathroom.

   Oh my god.

   Yes.  You said that several times last night as well.  Or we said it.  I’m still not quite clear on that.

   Shaking her head as if that would help clear it, Tess looked in the mirror.  Her hair was a complete disaster, but her face was flushed and her eyes were bright.  Which was somewhat frightening since she felt as if she were falling apart inside.  With a shaky hand, she picked up her brush and started running it through her hair, her only instinct to follow her routine.  What am I going to do?

   How should I know?  This has never happened to me either.

   Tess pulled her hair back in a ponytail, smoothing it back until every hair was in place.  She washed her face in the sink, then took her pills.  Now what? she asked as she washed the glass she’d just used.

   Breakfast?

   I’ll have to go downstairs.  What if he’s there?

   Then ignore him.  Trust me.  It’ll be like he’s not even there.

   Ok.  Stopping to put on her slippers, Tess left her room and went downstairs.

*************************

   The moment Sands walked into the living room, he realized just how much importance the agency was placing on this.  Not only was Ingrid here – and doing her best not to sulk – but so was Colton’s aide, Paul Strauss, and another man that Sands didn’t recognize.  Sands raised his eyebrows as he looked in the room, then turned on his heel to go into the kitchen and start some coffee.  If they wanted to talk to him, that was all fine and good, but they’d regret it if he didn’t get some caffeine in his system first.

   Five minutes later he was sitting in an armchair across from Strauss, cup of coffee in one hand, lit cigarette in the other.  “What’re you doing here, Strauss?  I was under the impression that I was going to be running this.”

   Strauss looked at the other agent, taking in his state of disarray.  “Mixing business with pleasure, agent Sands?”

   “It’s the way to go, Pauly.”  Sands took a drag from his cigarette.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

   The man sighed, controlling his temper.  Director Colton had warned him that Sands wasn’t going to appreciate his appearance, but now he was thinking that had been an understatement.  No matter how at ease Sands appeared, Strauss could feel the coiled tension in the man.  “We discovered a few days ago that the . . . intelligence on the Barillo woman wasn’t complete.  We tried to inform you of this, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

   Sands blew a cloud of smoke in Strauss’ direction.  “Technology.  It’s so unreliable.”  He knew Strauss wasn’t buying it, but that was perfectly fine.  “What was this information that was so urgent?  Because, at the moment, I think I know more about Teresa Barillo than most men.”

   The man Sands didn’t know smirked, but Strauss was unamused.  “Agent Rochester informed me that Barillo is –”

   “Right behind you.”  Tess had frozen for a moment when she’d found two strangers, her old roommate, and the man she’d . . . slept with . . . all in the same room.  Panic had nearly overwhelmed her before the mask she’d used for so many years slammed into place.  This was a situation that was normal compared to a ‘morning after’ scene.  Ruthlessly, nearly twenty years of her past exploded into vibrant life, controlling her reactions, but nearly eclipsing what she was really seeing.  It was as if one part of her mind was seeing ‘now,’ and the other – the part that was whispering continually – was seeing ‘then.’  Seeing the similarities between this meeting, and countless others she’d attended under the cartel.

   Strangers in your home, Teresa.  They’re here to cause trouble.  You have to get them out of the house.  You have to appear strong or they’ll devour you.  Pay attention to the present and forget the other things you’re seeing.  With the help of her voice, the images of her past became hazy and ghost-like.  With her grasp of real-life a bit more firm, she continued descending the stairs, her only sign of tension the hand gripping the railing with a white-knuckled fingers.

   She entered the living room with her back straight, her head held high, and her face completely blank.  Sands watched as a very collected Tess sat down in a chair just a foot or so away from his.  He couldn’t help but notice that she’d seated herself where she could see everyone in the room.

   Tess sat with her back ramrod straight – as she’d been taught by her etiquette teachers – completely still and apparently at ease.  Sands might have bought that if he hadn’t felt the cloud of tight control around her or noticed how her left hand was tapping soundlessly but incessantly against the arm of the chair.  “To what do I owe the pleasure, señores?”  Tessa normally had a bit of an accent when speaking English, but now that accent was heavier than it normally was.  Sands frowned – was Tess putting on an act to make people underestimate her, or was she closer to losing it than he’d thought?  Now that he thought about it, she did seem like someone who’d give in to nervous breakdowns.

   Tess surveyed the room, tilting her head to the side as she noticed Inge.  “Oh, funny.  For some reason I thought you were dead.”

   That’s your old roommate, not Ajedrez.  Ajedrez is dead.

   “Oh, never mind.  My mistake.”  Tess looked to Strauss.  “And who are you?”  Sands watched as the little drama unfolded, simply taking sips of his coffee and smoking his cigarette as if he were watching dinner theater or something like that.  However, when she asked that question, he felt a bit of guilt and what might be alarm shoot through him, energizing his muscles.  He doubted she’d take the news that he worked for the CIA well.

   “I’m Paul Straus, assistant to Director William Colton of the Central Intelligence Agency.”

   Tess stared blankly at the man for a moment as her voice puffed up inside her head like an angry cat, hissing and spitting.  Government – they’re as bad as a cartel.  They’re here to use you.  Get out.  Now.

   It was funny to feel two such disparate emotions at once; the voice was angry and panicked, but Tess felt nothing but the weight of disaster weighing her down.  And go where?  And why should I?  Didn’t Sands use me last night?  I suppose we should have taken into consideration the fact that we were getting screwed in more than one way.  It was too late to run.  “What do you want, Paul Strauss of the CIA?”

   “Ms. Barillo –” he stopped when Tessa’s eyes closed and she pressed the heel of her hand to forehead, looking to Inge in uncertainty when Tess rocked her body back and forth once or twice.  Then just as suddenly as she’d become distressed, she stopped, looking back up with a blank face and clear eyes.

   “I’m sorry.  I prefer to go by Teresa Adame.  I’m sure you can understand why I wouldn’t want to be reminded daily that I’m the bastard daughter of a drug lord who more than likely ruined thousands of lives,” she said matter-of-factly.  In fact there was no emotion in her voice at all.  Dismissing Strauss for a moment, she looked at Sands.  “I suppose you’re CIA as well?” she asked almost pleasantly.

   He nodded.  Sands knew Tess better than anyone in this house, and he knew what she sounded like when she was trying to be pleasant.  This wasn’t it.  This was the voice he’d heard as she’d begged to be left alone in her dreams.  Something was wrong.  Unfortunately, Strauss had never dropped the other shoe about what had been left out of the intelligence file on her.  Whatever it was, it was no small thing.

   “Ms. Adame.”  Tess turned her head back to Strauss.  He was clearly trying to contain impatience.  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I’m afraid we need your help.”

   “My help?”  That was funny.  She couldn’t even help herself.  “You managed to dig up my ‘secret past’ somehow, you found me in my new home when I left no forwarding address with anyone, you managed to break into my house, and send an agent to spy on me.  And yet, you need my help.”  That was a joke.

   Strauss didn’t even look ashamed of what had happened.  “Yes.”

   “And what kind of help is it that you think you need?”  Again, there was that tone that Tess used when trapped in her nightmares, but there was an ironic smile on her face.  Both hands were tapping now, and she curled her legs under her to keep her feet from tapping as well.  Sands could see the minute tremors wracking her body, and for the first time, thought that perhaps this wasn’t as good an idea as everyone seemed to think it was.

   “Pauly –”

   “Shh, Sands, I want to hear what the nice man has to say.”

   Strauss mistakenly took this as a sign that she was willing to help.  He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he gestured with his hands.  “In the wake of last November’s failed coup, we believed that the cartel run by your family was destroyed, but we’ve received evidence that it wasn’t.  Not only is it intact, but it’s looking to add to its territory.  We want you to help us get a man inside so we can shut them down once and for all.”

   Sands watched as all the color drained from Tessa’s face.  God.  If they’d just left things to me I could have convinced her to help.  He knew that there was no way she was going to help now.  He only had a few hours worth of seeing emotions move over her face, but he had weeks of hearing her agitation and feelings.  She was going to say no, and they were going to push her, which normally, he wouldn’t mind watching, but something told him that this would be getting in over all their heads.

   Tess laughed, waves of hysterical, barking laughter that had nothing to do with actual humor.  There was no way in hell that she was going back to Mexico.  Her laugher continued, as she shook her head in dismay.

   Shut up!  You’re giving everything away.

   The laugher stopped suddenly, as if someone had slit her throat.  “No.”

   Damn you, Teresa.  You had to loose it, didn’t you?  Look at them.  Tess looked back at Strauss and at the nameless man behind him.  They were staring at her in a kind of fascinated horror.  They know.  Who do you think it was who told them?

   Inge.  As the name ran through her mind, she realized she couldn’t see her old roommate anymore.  She was in the act of jumping from her chair when a hand on her shoulder forced her back down, and a sudden dart of pain flowered in her arm.  She looked down in confusion, not really understanding that she was even feeling pain.  The sensation was disassociated, as if she were feeling sympathy pain for someone else.  But the needle in her arm turned that idea on its side.

   “What the hell is going on here?” 

   Tess was aware that Sands had jumped to his feet beside her, and that he was talking to the other men in the room, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the blond, who had a triumphant smirk on her face.

   “What did you just give me?” she whispered, not in fear, but as if someone had just punched her in the gut.

   “Just a little something to hurry the process along and to show you just what might happen if you say no to this assignment.”

   I always told you she hated you.  Tess stood up, holding on to the chair back, the Whisperers were back, and they were louder than ever.  There was the one that was happy, and the one that was scared.  The one that hated, that was hungry, that loved, that lusted, that was angry, that laughed, that cried, that hid, that argued, that watched with empty eyes as someone died . . . they were all there.  All those and more.  Slowly, Tessa covered her ears as they yelled and battled for her attention.

   Too quiet.  It’s too quiet.  She had to drown them out.  Sands turned to Tess just in time to see her walk over to the stereo and start sorting through CDs.  No good, no good, no good.  Finally she found what she wanted and put it in.  “A Night on Bald Mountain,” she commented softly.  “She always did like that.”  Almost sensually, Tess pressed the play button and turned back to the now silent group.  “Do you know why She likes it?”  Tess answered even though no one showed any inclination for her to do so.  “It’s because we watched Fantasia once, and She liked how there was one demon who was stronger than all the other ghouls and goblins.  Like how Her voice is the loudest.  The others can come out to play, but She’s really the one controlling them.  Although, at the moment they’re under active revolt.”  She laughed.  “You could say the Whisperers are throwing their own little coup d’etat.”  Tessa’s face dropped suddenly, and she walked over to Inge.  She studied the other woman, tilting her head this way and that, as if trying to make a decision.  “Shh, no.  That would make a mess,” she commented, although not to anyone who was in the room.  “She always told me that you hated me.  She could never say why, though.  Why do you hate me, Ingrid?”

   Sands watched, frozen in place as Tess came apart before his eyes.  He was used to dealing with a lot of screwed up shit, but nothing like this.  Silently, he warned Inge not to answer, but the blond did just as she always did.  She decided that the best way to end a conversation was by verbally lashing out at whoever she was mad at.

   “I hate you because before you came along, I had my life planned out.  Grow up, become a very rich doctor, marry another very rich doctor, then settle down.  As the years passed, I decided Logan would be that doctor.  He was attractive, popular, came from a good family, and seemed to like me too.  And then you came along and then I was relegated to the friend that had to listen to how you were oblivious to how he felt about you.  But I got over that.  Moved on.  Went to work for the CIA, where I met Sheldon.  And he was almost mine, but he balked and I was willing to play out the line.  But he disappeared in Mexico, and then I heard that you’d found him.  That you’d tended him, comforted him, even preformed a miracle by giving him the opportunity to restore his eyesight.  How can any girl compete with that?  How can anyone compete with someone as perfect as you?  God, you spent six weeks in a psych ward, and you still came in second in our class.  If you hadn’t, you would have been first in the class.  And not only that, but you’re as crazy as a loon, and men still flock to you because then they can ‘protect’ you.  They can be the big strong man with the helpless girl.”  Inge glared at Tess.  “That’s why I hate you.”

   “Oh.”  She looked off to her side and asked, “Satisfied?”  She then nodded and looked back at Inge.  “I just think that you should know that She wants to kill you because of what you’ve just done.  She doesn’t mind trying to win, but She hates it when others interfere in our game.  I think She’s come to like me a little.  However, I don’t want to kill you.  So we compromised.”  Sands jumped forward to stop Tess, well aware that she knew how to defend herself, but Tess was faster.  Before Inge could move out of range, Tess had managed to throw a right hook into the other woman’s eye, blackening it, before whirling her around and slamming her head into the wall.

   Sands grabbed Tess from behind, but the woman paid him no mind, looking down at Inge, who’d fallen to the floor and was staring up in shock.  Her body began to sway from left to right as she still looked down at her fallen foe.  Then her hand flew up, and Tess let out a low cry as again she slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead, like someone trying to get their computer to work.  Sands tightened his arms, prepared should Tess try to fight, but she didn’t.  Instead her body moved back into Sands’, pressing against him as one of her hands reached between them to knead his thigh.  //Yo sencillamente quero tu saber tan yo disfrutó pasado noches.\\   I just want you to know that I enjoyed last night.  Her voice was a seductive purr.  //Terésa esta es un persona poco aventurera, y nunca poner en libertad jugar.\\  Teresa is a stick-in-the-mud, and never lets me come out to play.

   “Is that right?” Sands asked without letting go.  There was no guarantee that Tess was going to stay like this for long.

   “Sí.”  Almost as if she’d read his mind, again her hand clasped at her head, and again her behavior changed, although this time she was doing something he expected from her;  she was fighting to get free.  “Let me go, I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.  I promise.  Please father, please don’t –”  Her voice broke off as she moaned and her body went limp.  Sands was lowering her to the floor when she suddenly twisted with a snarl, and broke out of his hold.  She stood, poised to run, and stared at him for a moment, then fled, running into a room down the hall and slamming the door behind her.

   Deciding that it was best to leave her alone for the moment, Sands turned on the three agents who had started all this.  “What the fuck was that about?”

   Strauss was holding a handkerchief to a split above Inge’s left eye, while the woman tended to a split lip.  Sands had to admit that Tess knew how to inflict real damage if she got pissed off.  He’d have to remember that.  He switched his attention back to his ‘superior’ as the man answered his question.  “That was the last card in a poor hand, and unfortunately, it was a wild card.  We need her to get inside the Barillo cartel.  Without her we’ll fail and that would be a very large embarrassment to the CIA.  However, we knew she’d turn us down unless we had something to hold over her head.  Until Inge told us the one secret that Barillo has managed to hide all this time, the only threat we had was to deport her kids.  However –”

   “Stop talking in riddles and tell me what is going on.”  Sands pulled his gun out of his holster and started twirling it around one finger as anguished cries started making their way through the door of Tessa’s refuge.

   “She’s a schizophrenic, Sheldon.”  Inge batted Strauss’ hand away and looked Sands in the eye.  “A grade A schizoid.  I’ve no idea how she even managed to get you back to the States without wigging out.  Or maybe she didn’t.  Maybe she was overdosing on pills and suppressants.  Not that it really matters.”

   “What the hell did you give her?” Sands demanded.

   “A few CCs of dopamine.  It threw the off the balance in her head.  Although, she was apparently already more than a little off balance after last night.  She would have wigged out on you eventually.”  Sands didn’t quite believe that.  Tess was made of strong stuff if she’d been holding off an imminent breakdown just to deal with his colleagues.  “Tell me, do you enjoy fucking total nutcases?”

   “You’re such a cat, Inge.”  Sands holstered his gun again.  “Because you know, it seems to me that, aside from being a little mentally ill, she’s pretty normal.”  He grinned, “Besides, at least I don’t have to worry if she’s faking it in the sack.”  Inge growled and tried to hit him, but Strauss held her back.

   “That was unnecessary, agent Sands.”

   “So’s holding a woman’s sanity over her head.  If you’d waited just another twenty-four hours, I could have gotten her to go along with things without all the histrionics, although I realize that would have robbed you of your power rush.”

   “What’s wrong, Sheldon?  Don’t tell me you actually care about Teresa,” Inge mocked.

   “No, I just prefer not to have my toys stolen.”  A loud crash came from the bathroom.  Fuck.  Sands was sure he’d heard glass breaking.  In her current frame of mind, who knew was Tess could do.  Walking across the room, he grabbed Inge’s wrist and hauled her to her feet.

   “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sheldon?” she demanded, trying to free herself.

   “You’re the doctor in the house.  I would think it’d be in the best interests of the Agency if you managed to calm your ‘old friend’ down before she slits her wrists, or OD’s on meds, or something equally fatal.”

   Sands had managed to drag Inge partway down the hallway, when the front doors opened.  Both agents twirled around, Sands going for his gun, but the only person there was the housekeeper.  And the youngest kid.

   Cora just froze on the threshold, a bag of groceries in her arms.  Selena however, had no problem with the strange people in the house.  The toddler was a natural people person, loving to sit and babble at complete strangers if the opportunity ever opened for her to do so.  And because of this natural and cheerful tendency, she headed for Sands and Inge with determined and nearly running footsteps.  “Lena!  Parada!”  Stop!

   The girl paused uncertainly, and looked back at Cora, before heading for Sands again.  Reluctantly, Sands put his gun away, although he made no move to pick up the child clinging to his pant leg.  “Looks like you’re off the hook, Inge.  I bet Cora would be able to lend more of a hand than you will.  Wouldn’t you?” he addressed the woman who was still standing in the open door.  There was another crash in the bathroom and more yelling.

   “Oh my god.”  Cora dropped her groceries and went to the bathroom door, pushing past Sands.  She tried to open it, but it was locked.  “Tessa?  Open the door!”

   “Stay away from me!  I know what you want.  I know.  Just leave me alone.”

   Cora looked at the strange man who was still ignoring the toddler who was clinging to him.  “Who are you?”  She shook her head, asking another question before he could answer.  “Never mind that.  I need to know what set her off and how long she’s been like this.”  The sound of running water emerged from the room.

   Sands wasn’t quite sure how to answer that.  What was he supposed to say?  Oh, well, I spent the majority of last evening screwing your boss, and then this morning she was already teetering on the edge of a major psychological breakdown before one of my colleagues and ex-lover gave her something that would ensure she’d go berserk?  “I’m afraid that one of my fellow agents got a little trigger happy with a syringe of dopamine.”

   Cora simply stared at the man, revulsion slowly creeping over her face.  “And who do you happen to be?  How did you get into the house?”

   “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of them, but I picked the lock.”  Sighing, Sands pulled his ID out of his back pocket.  “Sheldon Sands, CIA.”  He let the woman take it and examine it.

   “Nice to see gratitude in action,” she muttered, giving the badge back to him.

   “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   Cora shook her head.  “Since I get the feeling you’re part of the cause of this, you can help me.”  She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.  “If Tess hasn’t settled down and gone into one of her periods of withdrawal, then I’m going to need you to restrain her while I give her a tranquilizer and a dose of her dopamine suppressant.”

   Sands looked down at Selena who’d taken to standing on his foot and begging for attention.  “And what am I supposed to do with, shorty, here?”

   Cora sighed and picked the toddler up, carrying her into the spare bedroom across the hall and setting her in a playpen.  The child instantly started to cry, but Cora simply shut the door.  There’d be time to comfort the child later, after Tess had been taken care off.

   Coming back to the door, she unlocked it, but didn’t immediately open it.  “Tessa?” she called.  “I’m coming in.”  There was no answer.

   The woman opened the door, slowly pushing it open, standing to one side of the doorway as Sands stood on the other.  They cautiously looked inside the small room; Tess was sitting in a bathtub full of steaming water, fully clothed, and playing with a piece of the broken mirror.  She was humming to herself softly, occasionally pricking her fingers on the pointed piece of glass.  “Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall.  Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall.  All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.”  She giggled.

   “Tess?”  The woman’s head turned towards the duo in the doorway, but she didn’t look away from her piece of mirror.  “What are you doing, Tess?”

   “They want to know what we’re doing,” she confided to the reflective surface.  “What should I tell them?”  She was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.  “Yes, that’ll do.  She says that we’re cold and we can’t feel anything.  She doesn’t like that.  I think She’s spoiled after last night – I let Her feel things with me.”  Finally Tess looked up, smiling at Cora, but staring blankly at Sands.

   He looked back at her, stifling the shock that was rising up in him.  How had she managed to hide this so well?  It was true that he’d had other things to deal with during the time he’d spent with her, but this. . . .

   Tess looked away, sinking down into the water even more.  “Black death with no eyes,” she muttered.  “Go away.  You’re not supposed to be here.  I left.  I left for you.  You were supposed to accept that.  A woman will always sacrifice herself if you give her the opportunity.  It is her favorite form of self-indulgence.  Why couldn’t you give me that much?”  She turned the sliver of glass and raised her left hand out of the water.  With the utmost concentration and care, she slowly pressed the glass against her hand, trailing it from wrist bone to the fist knuckle of her pinky finger.  A fine line of crimson emerged in its wake.  “Why can’t I feel it?” she muttered.

   Cora went into the room and looked in the destroyed medicine cabinet, cursing when she saw the shattered remains of the injection she needed to give Tess.  She turned to Sands, “Watch her and stop her if she tries to do any serious damage.  I have to go get another injection out of another room.”  She left and Sands entered the bathroom, careful to avoid stepping on any of the slivers of glass on the floor. 

   He took a seat on the toilet and watched Tess as she ignored him.  “What are you doing, niña?”

   Tess sighed.  “Razors pain ya, Rivers are damp,/Acids sting ya, Drugs cause cramp,/Guns aren't lawful, Nooses give,/Gas smells awful, Ya might as well live.”  She finally looked at Sands.  “When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.”  She looked back at her hand and started tracing her lifeline, raising a small welt.  “Why?  Why me?”

   “What do you mean?”

*************************

   Tess didn’t answer Sands.  She was too busy listening to her mind.

   All I’m saying is, maybe he can help us feel.

   Tess looked into the small fragment of mirror she held.  It’d taken several minutes to find the one that held Her.  She’d had to discard the ones that held Whisperers.  It was funny – she’d never actually seen her voice before, but for some reason she wasn’t surprised to see it looked like a desert fox.  Big ears, a small body for getting into small places, and used to surviving in wastelands others avoided.  “No.  Why would that be any different?  I can’t feel.  There’s not enough left of me to feel.  They’ve taken it all.  I’m all broken inside.”

   Fine.  You don’t want to die, you don’t want to feel, you don’t want to talk to anyone. . . .  So what’s the purpose of sitting here?

   “I don’t know.”

   Look.  One kiss is all it would take to find out whether or not he can help.  And I don’t think he’d really be disinclined to going along with it.

   “Right.  Who cares that I’m not myself?”

   Are you going to do it, or not?

   “Fine.”  Tess slowly stood up, dropping the mirror as she did so.

   Clumsy idiot!  Pick me up.  I don’t like getting wet.

   Sands watched as Tess bent over and searched for the piece of glass she’d dropped.  It was eerie to sit and listen to her converse with someone only she could hear.  Once she had the mirror back in hand, she looked at him, studying him intently.  Then she sighed again, as if resigned to her fate, then started pulling the sweater over her head.  He watched, still somewhat in shock as she pulled the sodden piece of clothing off and dropped it into the tub.  Wet t-shirt contest.  She was wearing a light green t-shirt underneath the sweater, which was also soaking wet, and he could see that she’d put on a bra under the t-shirt.  She then set the mirror fragment on the side of the tub and removed her jeans, revealing dark blue underwear.  This done, she climbed out of the tub and seated herself on his lap.  He moved his hands away so they’d be free to pin her arms to her sides if he had too, but he was wary of doing anything else.

   Footsteps distracted him from his study of Tess – Cora was in the doorway.  One eyebrow was raised as she surveyed the scene.  Sands automatically started to defend himself, on edge because of Tessa’s strange behavior.  “I –”

   “I know, you didn’t do anything.  At least not this morning.  Something tells me that you did do something to make her fixated on you though.  Possibly, it’s just all the time she spent with you last year.”  Cora shook her head.  “Just keep her still as I give this to her.”  She set the tranquilizer on the counter; Tess was acting calm enough that Cora thought the suppressant would be enough to help her get back under control.

   Meanwhile, Tess was leaning in to touch Sands.  She could feel resistance when her fingers met his chest, but couldn’t feel any textures, couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin.  “This isn’t going to work,” she muttered, but she pressed on anyway.  Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his; if he responded, she couldn’t tell.  Disgusted, she started to get up, but his arms trapped her.

   Not good.  Get away.

  “Why bother?” she asked.  “It doesn’t matter.”  She relaxed, turning her head to watch as Cora primed the syringe.

   Cora was relieved when Tess didn’t fight against Sands’ firm hold on her.  The last thing she needed was for the needle to break off in Tessa’s arm.  She quickly gave the shot as Tess watched her out of blank eyes.  “Let’s get her into bed.  She’ll sleep most of the day, if not the entire day.  And then you can give me some answers as to what’s going on.”

*************************

   Sands didn’t like being recruited as a male nurse.  If he had his way, he’d be free of this place until Tess was in a condition to talk to him again.

   She helped you, Sheldon.  Just get her into bed.

   Why is it that you only appear around her?  Sands was convinced that this voice was his conscience.

   He gently laid Tess on her bed.  She stirred, her gaze loosing some of the vacuous haze that’d started taking her over after Cora had given her the medication.  “I know you,” she murmured.  Sands didn’t answer.  Tess sighed and turned her head to look out the window.  “I understand it all now.  I understand why they did it, why you didn’t want to contact your bosses.  I couldn’t either.  I don’t like governments.  I don’t like cartels.  All either of them care about is power.”  She was tired and the Whisperers were finally falling silent.  That just left what she had to say to him.  “The fear of death is what keeps you alive,/A deadly mission you must survive,/You lurk in the shadows, darkness a friend,/The lies begin and never end,//Secret agent, your law is a gun,/Secret agent, you trust no one,/Secret agent, a man in black,/Secret agent, a gun at your back,//Truth is out there, you know it's a lie,/Trust no one, if you do you die,/Government deployed, what's at stake?/Double agent out on the stake,/Charged with treason, secrets to sell,/Signed in blood, a contract with hell,/Followed orders, no questions asked,/Suicide mission, could be your last . . .”  With great effort Tess focused her tired eyes on Sands.  “That was you, wasn’t it?”

   “What are you talking about?”  Sands looked at Tess, trapped by the unveiled secrets in her eyes.

   “Great wits are sure to madness near allied/And thin partitions do their bounds divide.”  Tess laughed, but it was a hollow laugh.  He was wearing black.  Even the blood on his face was turning black.  “I can see it all.  You didn’t trust anyone –except for my half-sister.  You controlled the ‘truth’ that people heard, but didn’t get enough of it yourself.  You were playing both sides, weren’t you?  That’s why you’re still working for them.  But when you played with the cartel, you didn’t know what you were getting into.  And it was too late when you finally found out, so you settled for killing as many as you could before dying yourself.”  Tess yawned.  “Do you hate me for that?  For not letting you die?”  Her eyes closed, releasing him.  “I think you do.  That’s why you came back when they offered you the chance.”  She drifted off into sleep, but not before she murmured, “Lo siento.”  I’m sorry.

   Sands moved to the doorway, watching as Cora took over, ignoring the sharp glances the woman shot him every now and again.  He had bigger problems on his hands.

   He needed a smoke.

In her dream, Tess was dressed in a linen suit and a silk blouse.  Her hair was coiled around her head in a braid, and not a single hair was out of place.  She was wearing a gold filigree bracelet, a gold crucifix on a gold chain, and gold studs in her ears.  Her father liked it when she wore gold.  She was sitting at a small table on an open-air patio that overlooked a well-tended garden.  There was a pot of tea on the table, along with delicate and expensive porcelain cups and saucers, plates of pastries, and other tea-time paraphernalia. 

   All in all, Tess would have been well pleased with this, but the man across from her ruined it all.  “Hello, Father.”  Her dream self was well aware that this man had been dead for a year now, but that didn’t seem strange at all.

   “Have you come to your senses yet?”

   “What do you mean?”

   Barillo shook his head and steepled his fingers.  “Fine.  I will humor you.  Have you yet realized that it was a mistake to run away from your home?  Your family?”

   “It wasn’t a mistake.”

   “Then what have you been doing with your life?  What did you do after leaving home?”  Tess looked down at her lap, knowing she’d done nothing.  Nothing really worthwhile.  “Did you return to the States and become a great doctor?  Did you start up a clinic in San Antonio or Mexico City where your money and knowledge would be useful?  Did you find a teaching position at a grand university?”  He looked at her, almost in pity.  “No.  You hung onto the coattails of the cartel, and you listened for news of what your family was doing.  As it should have been, you found meaning in your family.”

   “What I found was a trail of victims.  What I found were families broken by your presence.  None of what I did was caused by any lingering sense of familial bonds.”

  “Come now, Teresa.  Tell yourself the truth.”  She just stared at the man who’d fathered her.  “Somewhere, somewhere inside you, you were searching for your family, and you were grateful to us for giving you meaning, even if you hated the meaning left to you after leaving.  You could have left all this behind at any time, but you didn’t.  Even in your dreams you return here.”  His voice made shame flower inside her.  “What did I always teach you?”

   “Family is stronger than blood,” she whispered.  Some part of her traitorous mind actually believed what he was saying.  “But –”

   “No.  No ‘buts.’  No excuses.  Excuses are for the weak willed, and you, Teresa, are anything by weak willed.”  He threw a sheaf of photographs on the table between them, motioning for her to take them.  It didn’t matter that he hadn’t had them moments before, because this was a dream and anything could happen in dreams.  Photographs could appear out of nowhere and she could sit down and have a civil conversation with a man she hated.  “Look at yourself.  At what you have chosen.”

   As Tess looked at each picture, it seemed to come alive, both before her eyes and inside her mind.  Each scene revolved around Sands – a man she had every right to despise and should despise.  But didn’t.  “What does this have to do with family?”  She didn’t understand.

   “This man is more like your family than you wish to admit.  Look again.”  Tess did, and this time she saw not only Sands, but the dead family members that his actions sometimes reminded her of.  The one who showed up the most was Barillo himself.  “That is why you find yourself drawn to the man.  It is the reflection of me that you see in him.”

   It couldn’t be true.  “No.  He’s different.  He . . . he. . . .”

   “He used you, is using you, and plans on using you?”

   “Yes.”  Even in her own ears her voice sounded defeated.

   “Do you know why you do this, Teresa?”

   She shook her head.  “It doesn’t matter.  If I know, I can stop.”

   “No.  You can’t stop.  You let him use you because in your heart you still long for family.  You see us represented in him, and you long for what he can do.  You know he can replace my place in your life.  I represented control, discipline, purpose, and even a measure of safety to you.  When you lived at home you always knew what your task was.  You had a role.  Your life had meaning.  You had one purpose when you were with us, didn’t you?”  She nodded.  “You miss that.  You miss having one task to focus your mind on.”

   “But the children . . . I look after them. . . .”

   “Caring for someone else’s brats is not a purpose, Teresa.  It is a duty.  One you share with someone more capable of dealing with the multitude of choices and minor emergencies they create.  You are not truly needed by them, and you know that.  But Sands, he needed you, even if he hated that need and hated you for filling it.  Yet, here you are again, thrown back together with this man, thrown back into a situation with your family, and you long for it.”

   “No –”

   “Yes.  You long for the single-mindedness that comes from having just one purpose.  You fear falling into the clutches of the cartel not because you fear them, but because you know you will be tempted to stay with them.  You would hate them every day of your life, but you would be tempted by the purpose they represent.”  He sighed and leaned back into his chair.  “And yet, as much as I would rejoice to see you back in the arms of your family, I cannot help feeling uneasy.  This man, Sands, he represents these things too.  It would be easy for you to find your meaning in him, to devote yourself to him.  And despite all evidence to the contrary, you are right.  He is different, even if the differences are nearly small enough not to count.  He could very well come to see you and long for what you could represent to him.  The possibility of you.  If I could be sure that that possibility would scare him enough to stay away from you. . . .”  Barillo shook his head.  “You must kill him, Teresa.  Not now.  Not where you might be caught.  But once you return to Mexico, then you must turn him over to your family.”

   “No –”  The mere suggestion hurt.  “I can’t.”

   “You must.  The conflicting loyalties between the two – your family and your would-be lover – will tear you to pieces.  Your mind will continue to fragment until there is nothing left but the madness, and you trapped, insensible, in its grip.  Is that what you want?”

   “No,” she whispered.

   “Then you will do as I say.  You will go to Mexico.  You will present yourself to the new leader.  And to prove your loyalty, you will give him Sands’ head on a platter.”  The dream started to fade before she could deny this.  “As certainly as my blood flows in your veins, you will do this, dau. . . .”

*********************************

 The dream ended before the word could be completed.  Tess opened her eyes to an empty room, darkened by night.  Without a second thought, she turned back over and went to sleep, the medication’s grip still tight on her mind.

*********************************

The next time Tess woke up, it was past 8:30 the next morning.  Tess looked at her bedside clock, and sighed.  She wouldn’t be able to get out of bed until nine.  She didn’t know why, she just didn’t like the number eight.  It was one of those strange quirks that went with the territory of being clinically mentally unstable.

   “Ah, sleeping beauty awakes.”

   Tess closed her eyes in defeat.  No matter where she turned, she was forced to confront reality.  Maybe she wasn’t ready to do so yet.

   That’s fine.  You don’t have to.  Just sit back and relax.  I’ll take care of it.

   No.  It’s my life.  My life that’s come calling.  She rolled over and closed her eyes.  Just let him sit there and wonder why I’m not talking to him.  Let him wonder if I’m myself yet.  Which I’m not.  Tess knew that lethargy would be her constant companion for the next day or so.  She would force herself out of bed – eventually – but she’d be in no condition to do anything other than that.  Maybe a puzzle.  I like puzzles.  Or that box of buttons I bought at that yard sale.  They still need to be sorted.  The lure of having a mess to straighten distracted her from her guest for the time being.

   Sands sat back in his chair as Tess ignored him.  Cora was faithfully keeping the kids occupied, although it was only a matter of time before Marcos came in . . . and perhaps the young one.  She seemed to be persistent.  He needed to talk to Tess before then.  While Strauss and his cronies had left soon after yesterday’s ‘incident,’ he’d been left with a message saying they expected an answer by tonight. 

   Sands gone to his hotel room after Tess had fallen asleep last night, showered, slept a bit, but mostly he’d sat around and considered just what ramifications Tessa’s clearly-impaired mental state might have on this mission.

   First of all there was the fact that Tessa’s state of mind was not something that could be depended on.  He didn’t like that.  The less she was able to do, the more he was going to have to do to make sure that he – they – were not caught.  Being caught this time would mean certain death.  He was lucky that he hadn’t been killed straight off the last time.  Getting caught again . . . it wasn’t going to happen.

   He’d smoked.  A week ago he was considering this assignment a godsend – now it was starting to resemble a time-bomb.  One misstep on her part, and not only was he dead, but so was she.  No.  If her ‘family’ was looking for her this intensely, it was unlikely they’d kill her.  There was no such guarantee for him.  So no matter what else happened, the first thing he’d have to do was make sure his own ass was covered.

   What were the other possibilities?  Tess had a total mental breakdown and had to be left behind while he got out.  Tess had a partial breakdown – enough to endanger them both, but not enough to confirm any suspicions.  What did he do then?  Simple enough, he got out the moment it looked as if any unwanted attention was going to be turned his way.  Tess held herself together, but things didn’t work out.  That was a greyer area.  What happened next would depend on circumstances, not hypotheses.  Tess held herself together and things did work.  What happened after that?  He left her?  He carried out his plan to make her hate him?  He didn’t want to think about that.  If anything was going to happen on that front, it was going to be based more on impulse than plan anyway.

   For the most part he thought she’d be able to handle things.  His intuition was telling him that she’d be able to cope in a situation she’d been raised in.  That contradicted popular opinion, but he was willing to go along with that.  He’d managed to get his hands on her medical charts – the only other recorded breakdown she’d had had been in med school.  That was when she’d been identified as having schizophrenia.  Since then, medication and semi-regular psychologist visits had been keeping her stable.  There had been a note though, from her shrink, saying that she needed to avoid extreme emotional upheaval.  Something she’d had heaped on her within the past twenty-four hours. 

   He felt somewhat guilty about that – not enough to regret anything, but enough to wonder how much his sudden reappearance and the subsequent events of their night together had had to do with her breakdown.  He justified himself by thinking that it wasn’t as if he’d known anything about this, but some nagging part of him told him that he should have.  There’d been enough hints dropped: the fidgeting, the quotes, the constant concerns from her friends about her health and their repeated attempts to get her to sleep enough.  Her background. And never once had he suspected that she might be anything other than what she pretended to be.  He had half a degree in psych – he should have known something.

   Perhaps you should have taken the time to find out.

   Perhaps she should have said something about this.  I certainly wouldn’t have stuck around with her if I’d know she was insane. . . .  He cursed.  That was why she’d never said anything.  Her overblown sense of responsibility.  She’d been so intent on getting him help that she’d know exactly what a full disclosure would have done.  He would have abandoned her long before meeting Pierce, and he’d still be blind somewhere, bitter and useless.

   Sands had frozen at that thought.  Was he actually empathizing with the woman?  He was.  Judas Priest.  What was it about her that raised emotions in him in the first place?

   He knew that was what was really pissing him off.  Amusement was a reaction he could have handled.  Minor disgust at her behavior.  Irritation that Strauss and Inge could be so dramatic.  But he hadn’t felt any of those.  He’d gone and broken his number one rule – don’t get involved in the game.  You think he would have learned something from Mexico.  He’d gotten involved then, although that involvement had been strictly physical with perhaps a hint of sentimentality.  Watching Tess as she ignored him, he realized that that record had just been shot to hell.

   What was bugging him?  What was bugging him was the game that was supposed to be laid out neatly on a board had just become real.  The chessboard that was his job – and occasionally his life – had just been knocked off the table.  He needed to capture the opponent’s queen, and he found that he . . . that he had more in common with her than was comfortable.  He was surprised that she hadn’t laughed out loud when he’d asked if she knew what it was like to have people watching in horror.  And there went my objectivity.

   If he was honest with himself, he could admit that his objectivity had been lost long ago.  If he was truly mad at Tess, he should have just shot her in the head, or not bothered to do anything.  Get the job done, then burn her.  But no, his revenge had to be ‘personal.’  Then he’d gone and gotten upset when he realized that Tessa had had help going over the edge.  Being injected with foreign chemicals without giving permission was a sore spot for him now, and he hadn’t liked seeing that happen to Tess.  He didn’t like realizing that if she hadn’t met him, she wouldn’t be in this now.  No one would know where to find her.

   Sands got up and left the room.  Sitting and watching Tess wasn’t helping him think clearly.  He needed to know how to approach the woman – what argument would get her to ‘join the cause.’  If he couldn’t do that, he’d need to request that someone else take over the assignment because he’d get himself killed.

*********************************

When Tess turned back over, an hour or so later, she was alone.  It was now past eight, so she could get up and move around, but she lacked the motivation.  Why bother?  Cora could handle the children – they didn’t need her.  Sands was lurking somewhere, ready to accost her.  Perhaps his buddies were still around.  Perhaps Inge was still around.  The reasons for staying in bed were adding up quickly.

   You’re such a wuss.

   Yes, I am.  At least when I can afford to be.

   Fine.  Then as long as you’re laying there, you might as well think about what you’re going to do.  You have two choices: resist and spend the rest of your days with me for company – because you know that’s what you were being threatened with – or go along with it.  The voice paused.  What’s that poem you’re always reciting?

   What?  There were several poems she was always reciting.

   The one about losers.

   Oh, right.  Tess wracked her lazy mind.  Wandering by lone sea breakers,/and sitting by desolate streams –

   No.  Further on.

   One man with a dream, at pleasure/shall go forth and conquer a crown/And three with a new song’s measure/can trample an empire down.  Tess thought a moment.  But there’ll only be two of us.

   Not the point.  If you can damage the cartel, should you try?

   It’ll be dangerous.

   Do you want to live with the ruined lives of thousands on your head?  It’ll be your fault.  Especially if you can actually take the cartel down.  They hurt you – get them back.

   I’ll be alone!  What can I do by myself?!   Tess asked this to cover up her real fear.  She didn’t know what would happen if she went back to the hacienda after all this time.  That was where her voice had made its first appearance.  Would it feed off that?

   You won’t be alone.  Sands will be with you.  Tess swore that the voice was grinning evilly.  Speak of the devil.

   Tess turned her head to stare at the man standing in her doorway.  “Who is it?”  She saw the look on his face, the look that wondered if she was totally there.  “Which family member am I being asked to betray?”

   Sands moved slowly into the room.  It’d be good if he didn’t have to argue her around – god, he still wasn’t sure what to say to her to get her to cooperate.  She might be mad, but she was in no way stupid.  He had the feeling that she knew exactly what was at stake.

   Tess saw his hesitation and felt humiliation burn its way through her.  He was scared of her.  “I’m unbalanced, not insane, Sands.  I’m not going to bite.”

   “Pity.”  He sat down in the chair next to the bed.  “Carlos.  Carlos Barillo.”

   What?   Tess looked at Sands as if he was the one who was insane.  “Carlos Barillo?  There isn’t a ‘Carlos Barillo.’  Whoever sent along that intelligence had no idea what they were talking about.” 

   “Then who do you think has taken over the cartel?”

   Tess relaxed into her pillows.  “Carlos.  Carlos took it over.  That was always the plan if Barillo and Ajedrez both died.  He was second in command and in charge of security.  Ajedrez was supposed to take over the cartel eventually, I was supposed to be her medical slave, and Carlos was going to be her chief of security.  A cartel is very like a family business.”  Family, her family, her problem.

   “I thought you said there wasn’t a Carlos.”  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was still delusional.  But he’d seen her eyes and they were clear and lucid, if dull.

   “I said there wasn’t a Carlos Barillo.  But there is a Carlos.  Carlos Velasquez.  His father was the brother of Celia, who was Ajedrez’s mother.”

   “So he’s not actually related to you.”  Sands was carefully storing this information away.

   “No, not blood.  But he is family.  We were all family, even if I was the scapegoat, the outsider.  Family is stronger than blood, a bond that ties knots tighter than those of ancestry.”  Tessa’s gaze became unfocused.  “He touched me once.  I remember that.”  No one was supposed to touch her – deprivation of human touch had just been another of Barillo’s tactics to control her.  The only time she was supposed to be touched was when she was being punished.  But Carlos had given her a hug once – from one cousin to another.  They’d both been punished for that, but she still remembered.

   Sands carefully kept his face blank.  Interrogations were a game, just like poker.  He needed to bluff and keep his face blank to win, but he wondered what that last comment had meant.  This cousin had ‘touched’ her.  What was the context of that touch?

   Ruthlessly, he jerked his mind off a track that may lead to concern for Tess as a person, and refocused his attention on his primary goal for being here.  “I take it, this means that you’re going to help.”

   Tess shrugged.  “We are today in the most literal sense a lawless society, for our law has ceased to be law and become instead its opposite – mere force at the disposal of whoever is at the controls.”  A sigh escaped her.  “However, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I?  Either I face a living nightmare in Mexico, or my charges are deported while I’m given a permanent home in a room with padded walls.”  Her eyes examined his.  “What’s it like to discover that your government is playing by cartel rules to destroy the threat they’re imitating?”  Her eyes darted away.  “I’ll tell you what it feels like – it blows.”

   That stung . . . but she was right.  Even he could see that fear and intimidation were being used to corral her into doing something she didn’t want to do.  He could see that not only were his bosses using those tactics, but he’d been using them.  Why not use it?  It was effective.  Find the one thing a person held dear, then use it against them.  He’d seen . . . or not seen . . . the effects of that, up close and personal.  It was an uncomfortable revelation to be confronted with, but a fact that was unlikely to change any time soon.  When you swim with sharks. . . .  “You’re acting like you haven’t been given a choice.”

   Clearly, he didn’t understand.  “I’ve always had a choice, Sands.  It’s my own fault I let people who knew my secret live.  I could have killed them all, but I chose not to.  I could have let you die, but I helped.  I could have killed myself, but I didn’t.  It’s your own fault that you’re here now, and that you’re helping them.  We all have choices.  I try not to regret mine.  Can you say the same?”  Tess turned on her side, facing away from him.  “Go report back to your handlers.  Tell them I’ll do it, and that I’ll meet with them tomorrow.  Now, go away.”

   Sands thought about firing off a retort, but decided against it.  Tess had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and it looked like they would be working rather closely in the months to come.  He wasn’t ready for her to totally despise him quite yet.  “Sleep well, niña.”  Over her blanketed shoulder, she flipped him off.

*********************************

Tess fidgeted in front of her mirror.  If she was going to go downstairs and face these men, she was going to look as professional as she could.  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she examined everything from her make-up to her posture.  She was wearing just enough concealer to cover the dusting of freckles that ran over the bridge of her nose, her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, she was wearing black slacks and a black suitcoat over a sapphire blue shirt.  She didn’t bother with jewelry – she wanted them to see a competent, worldly, woman.  Not a fragile miss or a case number.

   You won’t fool Sands.  He’s already seen the both just how fragile and just how worldly you are.  He won’t buy this.

   Tess ignored her voice.  Thoughts like that were not going to help.  All the fame I look for in life is to have lived it quietly.  She adjusted the way her jacket rested on her shoulders.  This would be an easier pill to swallow if I had any confidence that they wanted me for my qualifications.  But that wasn’t the reason they’d sought her out.  All they wanted was her blood – which was exactly what the cartel wanted.  After a lifetime of being worthless because of ‘diluted’ blood, she was now a valuable commodity, and she found that she didn’t like it at all.  She just wanted to live her life.  Unfortunately, that included dealing with these people and with Carlos.

   The clock on her bedroom mantle chimed.  She was now officially late for her meeting.  Oh well.  She was always late, and she didn’t seem to mind keeping these people waiting a bit longer.  Anything to show them that she could make their lives uncomfortable just as easily as they could ruin hers.

   You’re primping.  Just go downstairs already.

   I’m not primping.  I’m stalling.  There’s a difference.  Just because I’m going to cooperate doesn’t mean I’m easy.

  Sands would disagree, the voice said slyly.

   Sands would disagree purely on principle.  She took one last deep breath, then left her bedroom.  Reaching the top of the stairs, she took another deep breath before going downstairs.

   I can do this.  Once I remember that dealing with these people is just like dealing with a cartel, I’ll be fine.  Just like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it.  I can do this.  I have done this.  Before she realized it, she reached the bottom of the stairs.  She was chagrined to realize that she didn’t actually remember walking down the stairs, but that was something she would deal with later.

   Another deep breath got her to the door of the dining room.  The family – who was currently out of the house – usually ate in the kitchen, saving the more impersonal dining room for more important events.  It was perfect for a conference – or negotiations.  With a brief prayer to whoever may be listening, she took one last calming breath – You sound like you’re doing Lamaze. – and went into the room.

   The first thing she noticed was that Inge and the unknown man were conspicuously absent.  That was perfectly fine by her.  She was in control at the moment, but she wasn’t sure how long she would have remained that way if she’d been forced to deal with her old roommate’s presence.  Even now, she could hear her voice murmuring against the woman.  Shh, she hushed her voice, watching out of impartial eyes as Strauss stood, waiting for her to take a seat.

   Hypocrites.

   Hypocrite.  Sands is still sitting.  He was, and he was watching her out of eyes that had to be just as veiled as hers were.

   Strauss had taken the head of the table, and she understood that his position of head ‘negotiator’ would say he should take that seat, she still felt her hackles rise.  This was her house, not his.

   But you’re not in control here.  The voice was right, but that didn’t soothe the sting.  Tess pushed the pain away though, taking the seat across from Sands so that they all formed a neat little triangle.  She sat, noticing the tea service on the table; the delicate china cups, the saucers, the baked goods.  “Have you come to your senses? . . . Family is stronger than blood . . . kill him.”  She immediately poured herself a cup, relieved when she found green tea filling her cup.  Barillo had bought only the most expensive black tea.  She drank organic, green, decaffeinated tea.

   “I’m glad to see that you’ve . . . recovered.”  Sands tucked away a smile as Tess glared at Strauss’ unfortunate choice of words.

   “I’m sure you are – a raving lunatic wouldn’t be of much use to you.”  Tess added some honey to her cup to sweeten her tea.  “We are men of action – lies do not become us.”

   “Excuse me?”

   Sands snuffed out his cigarette, impatient to be done with this.  “She wants you to cut the idle chit-chat and get to the point.”

   Look who became Mr.-Know-it-all since he slept with you.

   Shut up.  “The board is set . . . the pieces are moving.  Explain what you want, Mr. Strauss.”  Tess crossed her legs under the table and fixed Strauss with the no-nonsense stare she’d learned in med school.  As long as you looked professional, people would take your word at face value – that’s what she’d been taught, by life, by school, and by family.  So she pretended not to care what happened either way, and waited for the man to explain himself.

   Strauss knew when he was in control of a conversation and when he wasn’t, and he was pissed to find out that he was not in control of this one.  No.  The renegade agent and the lunatic woman were.  “Well, first of all,” he said tightly, “let me thank you for agreeing to –”

   “I may be what many people would consider insane, but I’m not stupid.  I’m well aware of what would have happened should I have declined to ‘help’ you.  Just give me the facts, a detailed explanation of what you want me to do and how you expect me to do it, then get out of my house.”

   Sands was a bit surprised by the vehemence in Tessa’s voice.  The last time he’d heard such forcefulness from her, she was trying to convince him that he still had a soul despite the fact that he was going around sans eyes at the time.  He now wondered how much of that strength was hers and how much was an effect of her schizophrenia.  If he had to bet money, he’d say it was her – it had to take a lot of strength to keep things together.  Especially under circumstances like this.

   Tess ignored Sands, focusing on the man at the head of the table as he opened a leather portfolio and started sorting through papers and file folders.  The sooner she was rid of both men, the better.

   “Here’s the intelligence we’ve gathered on Barillo.  He –”

   “Barillo is dead,” Tess stated flatly.

   Strauss gave her a strange look.  “Armando Barillo is dead.  Carlos Barillo –”

   “How many times do I have to tell you this?  There is no ‘Carlos’ Barillo.  There is a Carlos Velasquez, who was indeed Armando Barillo’s nephew, but who is of no relation to me other than the fact that it was decided that we were family.”

   “If that’s true, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

   If it’s true?  Tessa’s voice went up in arms over that.  The bastard.  Who does he think he is?

   The man with all the information, that’s who.  Tess looked at Sands, then back at Strauss.  “I’m sorry.  I thought I had mentioned that.  I must have been mistaken.  Your intelligence is wrong.”

   Strauss had caught the look that Tess had sent Sands, but he wasn’t going to comment on it.  He’d pass the incident along to Director Colton and hope that he’d reprimand Sands for holding back information, but it wasn’t worth the fight.  He handed a file over to Tess.  “Please, let me know if any of this other information might be incorrect.”

   Tess took the file and set it off to the side; she’d have time to look it over later.  “I understand how much importance you’re setting on all this, Mr. Strauss, but I would appreciate it if you would stop with the details and just tell me what you’re trying to accomplish.  Why did you come to me?  Why do you want me to go back?  What information is it you’re trying to get me to dig up, and why do you think I have to go back to the ‘loving arms’ of my family to get it?”

   Sands noticed that Tessa’s fingers were tapping against the table rather agitatedly.  He took over the conversation as it became clear that Strauss was going to keep giving out information like a fisherman playing with ‘the big one.’  Tess had already agreed to help; these tactics were doing nothing but annoying her and pissing him off.  “We came to you because your so called ‘loving family’ is looking for you.  In fact, they’ve started a rather desperate – if quiet – manhunt for you.”

   “Why?  Why now?”

   “It’s not just now.  They’ve been looking for you since the end of November.  It’s just within the past two or three months that they’ve become desperate.”  Sands lit up a cigarette and ignored Strauss as the other man fumed at the end of the table.  Tess was facing him now, although her fingers had picked up their pace.  He obviously made her nervous.  “I assume you’re aware of the off-shore bank accounts held in your name?”  She nodded.  “And you’re also aware that they hold some total that comes very close to twenty million dollars?”

   Tess smirked.  “I’m starting to believe that the ‘I’ in CIA does not stand for ‘intelligence.’”  She paused and took a sip of tea.  “The money in those accounts is well over ‘twenty million dollars.’  If you multiply that amount by five you’d be closer to the actual amount – give or take a few hundred thousands pesos.”  The two men were staring at her in shock.  “Unless something has happened in the past week to devastate those accounts.”  Privately, she was thinking, Well, I suppose that explains why Carlos is looking for me.

   Sands narrowed his eyes at her, but otherwise didn’t challenge this declaration.   Apparently there were some accounts they weren’t aware of.  He made a mental note to track down the name of her attorney and see if they could get anything from the man.  It was likely he was in Mexico, otherwise someone would have known about this.  “I assume that answers at least some of your questions.”

   “Yes.  I understand that Carlos needs me alive and well if he’s to get the funds he needs to not only ‘expand his territory,’ but to keep what territory he’s got.  Loyalty isn’t cheap, and IOU’s only go so far.”  Alive and well.  They needed her to access any of those accounts, unless she signed them over to Carlos, which she wouldn’t do.  “So, I understand why they want me.  Why do you want me?”

   Sands smirked.  “You mean, other than the fact that you’ve got a nice rack –”

   Tess stood, all pretence of humor gone.  “If you’re going to resort to juvenile comments like that, I’ll leave right now.  And not only will I leave, but I will willing overdose myself because I’d rather have madness for company than a chauvinist pig like you.”  Tessa’s voice was icily controlled, but he could see the leap of temper in her eyes.  He wondered how often they would give her away.  Madness had to find some way to display itself, and if it couldn’t get out through  her mannerisms and behavior, her eyes were a probably a good indicator of what was going on inside her head.

   “Calm down, chiquita.  It was a joke.  People make those in uncomfortable situations.”  Tess glared at him, but she resumed her seat.  She glanced at Strauss who seemed to have given up any hope of regaining control of the conversation.  When Sands started to talk again, she turned her attention back to him.  “We need you because we know that you cousin is trying to enlarge the territory his cartel holds sway over, and that means –”

   “That means more drugs.  Yes, I know.  I’m not going to be able to talk him out of that.  It seems to me like you’d want me to stay out of the cartel’s hold so they can’t get the money they need.”

   “We’re not ready to settle for merely stunting their growth.  As long as they hold power, they will continue to grow, no matter how slowly.  They need to be completely exterminated.”

   Tess shook her head.  “We’ll pretend for the moment that I’m as heartless as some people and that I don’t have a problem with betraying people who’ve really never done me any wrong.  What makes you think that destroying one cartel will solve any of your problems?  Others will move in.”

   “Yes, but there will be so many territory disputes and infighting that we’ll have a couple years of rest before going in to wipe them out again.”

   “Take down the big dog and let the rest fight over the bones, hmm?”  Tess shook her head.  “That still doesn’t explain –”

   “We’re going to get you inside, hoping that Carlos will at least give you some of the information about when and how they’re going to increase their operation, and you’ll report back to me.”

   Tess felt her heart stop.  “What did you say?”

   “Agent Sand will be the one coordinating our efforts in Mexico.”  Strauss finally jumped in.  “He has the most experience dealing with these people out of anyone at the Agency, and he’s the least likely person to be suspected.”

   Yes.  Because everyone thinks he’s been taken care of.  Tess bit back the ruthless comment about drills and missing eyes that her voice was demanding she make.  “How nice.”  Even with his ‘experience,’ they were still getting in over their heads.  Why didn’t she just try to infiltrate the mob?  They would be just as forgiving if they found out that she was double-crossing them.  “We can all be insane together, because this is what this plan is.”

   “Yeah, but we get some pretty cool spy tools.”

   Tess just rolled her eyes.  I’m dead.  I’m dead and just haven’t bothered to lie down yet.

   Ask what kind of spy tools.

   Tess cradled her head in her hands in defeat.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” 

   Tess looked down, trying to figure out what was wrong with her outfit.  She was wearing a pair of low-slung drawstring sweats and a tank-top over a sports bra.  “This is what I normally wear when I’m working out.”  Tess picked up her gym bag, and looked at Cora.  “Is there something wrong with wearing this?”

   “Not if you’re on your own, but we know how rarely that happens these days.”

   Tess grimaced.  Cora had a point.  Sands had been shadowing her movements for the past three weeks.  He’d never approached her – she hadn’t even talked to him since her last meeting with Strauss – but she could feel his eyes on her.  It was almost as if they’d never left her little house in Culíacan . . . other than the fact that his spooking in the background was on a whole new scale now and that his eyes burned her, of course.  Sometimes she swore he was just doing his job, but at other times she swore he was undressing her with his eyes.

   I don’t know why he would want to.  It’s not like he hasn’t already seen it all.  The thought almost made her sick with nerves.  She’d never been one for casual sex or one-night stands.  In fact, she’d never been one for sex at all.  Not that she’d been a virgin – her two-hour marriage had taken care of that little detail – but she wasn’t exactly experienced either.  Which was why, as much as she tried to forget that night, she couldn’t quite make it disappear.  But she was hoping that pure physical exhaustion would help her get it out of her head.

   “I’ll be fine.  For some reason, my friend is giving me a wide berth.  He might sit around in his car and stare at me, but that’s as far as things go.”  Tess slung on a zippered sweatshirt, and grabbed her keys.  “I should be back in two hours or so.  If I’m not, I’ve got my cell phone.  Make sure that René picks up his room, and tell Carlos that I don’t want him online all afternoon.  I’ve already told them, but they’re going to need to hear it again.”  With that final admonition, Tess was out the door and jogging to her car, gym bag bouncing on her back.

   Why don’t I park the car in the garage? she wondered as she searched for her car key. Finding it, Tess unlocked the car door and practically flung herself inside.  It was cold out.  She put the key in the ignition, then reached to fasten her seatbelt.  She glanced in the rear-view mirror as she did so, and felt her heart stop for a moment.

   Sands grinned irritatingly.  “Careless chica.  What if I had been up to no good?”

   What do you mean, ‘What if?’  “I guess I’d been in trouble then,” she cautiously replied, not at all certain that she wasn’t in trouble now.

   Sands leaned forward in the backseat, intruding on her personal space.  Tess fought the urge to move away, but not successfully enough for him to not notice.  “Do I make you nervous?” he murmured in her ear.

   “Yes,” she whispered, unsure of what he was doing.

   “Good.”  He sat back.  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

   She twisted around in her seat and stared at him.  “What are you talking about?”  Hadn’t she given him enough?  Why did he insist on tormenting her?

   “The gym?”  He was looking at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.  “I thought you were eager to go get your groove on.”

   For the first time she noticed that he was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt.  He had something in mind.  “You make is sound like I’m jazzercising.”

   “What?  You’re not up for getting all hot and sweaty and out of breath with me?  I’ve always compared it to a dance.”  Tess blanched and reached for the handle of the door.  Sands surged forward and grabbed her wrist.  “Relax.  I’m talking about hand-to-hand combat.  I want to make sure you can take care of yourself.”

   “Right.”  Mentally, Tess smacked her forehead, thinking that she needed to grow a backbone where this man was concerned.  Outwardly, she rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the hand still trapping her wrist.  “I’m going to need that to drive.”

   “No you not.  You’ve got a girly car with an automatic transmission.”

   She bristled, but managed to hide that.  In a dry voice she pointed out, “You’re right.  But I can’t reach the keys.”  Sands let her go – she pushed the notion that he might have done so a bit regretfully out of her head – and she turned the keys in the ignition and put the car in drive, cursing Cora for being right the entire time.

*  *  *  *  *

Once they reached the gym, Sands led Tess into one of the private workout rooms in the back.  She looked around warily, noticing the mirrored wall and the padded floor.  She set her bag down, but didn’t move to do anything else.

   Sands ignored her, and walked to the middle of the room.  He took a seat, stretching.  A minute passed and she still hadn’t budged from the door.  “Are you going to stretch?  It’s usually a good idea before pounding the crap out of someone.  Or before getting the crap pounded out of you.”

   Tess made a face when she heard the dry mockery in his voice, but she took his advice.  Apparently there was no getting out of this.  And the idea of having the opportunity to ‘beat the crap’ out of him did hold a certain amount of appeal.

   When Tess moved further into the room and started her own stretches, Sands bit back a grin.  He’d kept his distance because he’d known that Tess was going to be jumpy around him, not to mention that her new knowledge and their last ‘experience’ together were probably not conducive to getting her to jump into bed with him again.  She was going to take persuasion, and the first part of that was getting on her nerves enough that she’d take the opportunity to get back at him.  He watched as she removed her jacket, revealing her lack of concealing clothes.  For some reason, he’d thought she’d wear baggier clothes – certainly, everything he’d seen her in up to this point had practically covered her from chin to toes.  He raised his eyebrows at the amount of cleavage the tank top in particular displayed, but kept his mouth shut.

   Tess sat down and removed her shoes as well, revealing the fact that she was wearing ankle braces.  Sands absorbed this fact with a bit of surprise – apparently Tess wasn’t as perfect as he’d always thought.  She was nuts and she had weak ankles.  The things you miss when you have no eyes.

   She stretched, unaware of what thoughts were running through Sands’ head.  First she stretched her legs out in front of her, bending at the waist until her forehead was on her knees and her fingers met behind her feet.  Then she pressed the soles of her feet together, making sure her knees were firmly on the mats, then stretched again.  Then came the splits . . . Sands’ mind was running into shady territory by now.  Then when Tess stood and bent over to touch her toes . . . .

   Ohh . . . Sands examined the way Tess rested her hands on the floor as her feet stayed flat and her butt pointed up in the air.  As enjoyable as the view was, he turned away before things got a little too enjoyable.  While he was open to the possibility of getting laid, Sands had to remind himself what his priorities were at the moment.  He really did want to see just how extensive Tessa’s fighting skills were.  That had to come first.  It’d be one less thing to worry about on the field.  Tomorrow he planned to take her down to the shooting range and see what types of weapons she knew how to handle.  Handle.  She’s got very nice hands for ‘handling’ things.  “Stop stalling, niña.”

   “You’re such a nag, Sands.”  Tess stood and faced her companion.  As she’d stretched and felt her muscles start to warm, the suggestion of a fight had started to sound better and better.  Anything to rid herself of the underlying tension that’d been making her muscles scream with inaction and her head throb with a low-grade headache for the past weeks.  As much as she tried to deny it, she remembered exactly what had happened between them; she remembered how she’d felt to see him again, how the voice in her head had begged for her to take what he was offering – or for her to let him take what she had once offered – how his body had felt against hers.  It hadn’t felt wrong . . . but she couldn’t say that it felt right either.  She’d decided that it had felt ‘off’ and that she wasn’t happy that they’d spent the night together.  Reputation is character minus what you’ve been caught doing.  She’d willingly let him take advantage of her, willingly thrown whatever respect he might have had for her out the window . . . willingly let him manipulate her.  She wanted her respect back.  That was the only reason she was still here.

   They faced off, neither of them saying anything.  No rules or guidelines were set; Sands apparently understood that by offering the challenge, he was leaving himself open for anything she might try.

   Tess waited patiently as he circled her, waiting for him to make the first move.  There was no sense in giving her hand away too early.  Our patience will achieve more than our force.

   Sands finally lost his patience.  He knew Tess knew at least one way of discouraging a frontal attack, so he circled behind her, then tried to pin her arms.  Tess reacted, throwing an elbow into his solar plexus.  Sands instinctively curled around his stomach, avoiding the blow, but quickly recovering.  Tess stepped away, spinning and throwing one arm out to knock aside the punch he’d aimed at her chest.  Sands blocked her return attack, grabbing her wrist and twisting it up behind her back, taking her to the ground in the same move she’d used on him before.  “Just a little too predictable, niña.  Try again.”  He let her up and Tess climbed to her feet, a sizzle of anger burning at the base of her neck.

   This time it was her turn to attack.  She feinted a right hook at his cheekbone; Sands believed her, and stumbled back when she caught him on the collarbone with her left foot.  Tess quickly regained her balance, settling back into a defensive position; she was much better at defense than she was at offense.

   The exchange of blows went on for some time, Tess losing more than she won.  Sands quickly analyzed why that was; she refused to press her advantage when she had it.  She’d rather hold him off for as long as she could.  No one ever won by staying strictly on the defensive.  Every time he dumped her on her rear or pinned her to the floor, he made an irritating comment, hoping that anger would do what his challenge had failed to do; she was hiding still.  He needed to see what she was truly capable of.  Tess refused to give in though.  She tried to shrug off his comments, tried to cage the impatience that was building up inside her.  Why couldn’t he just accept that she could hold her own if worst came to worst?  Why did he have to push for knowing the full scope of her skill?

   As she was distracted by these thoughts, Sands was able to knock her feet out from under her again.  She laid on her back, looking up at him, feeling her lungs hurl air in and out of her body and listening to her blood pound in her ears.  They’d been at this for nearly an hour now, and she could feel her body protesting against the amount of exertion she was demanding from it.  She was so tired, in fact, that she merely let her head drop back to the mat, aware that she was just amplifying his image of her as a weak woman.  It shouldn’t matter what he thinks anyway.

   Sands just shook his head as he stood over Tess.  She’d closed her eyes and her chest was heaving as she tried to regain her breath.  She had a coat of sweat covering her skin, a match to the perspiration breaking out of his face and along his back.  “Take a break, chiquita.”  A thought struck him.  “When you no longer look like a call girl who’s just earned her pay, we’ll pick things back up.”  Her eyes opened, anger glinting in their depths.  He smirked.  Looks like Tess doesn’t want to be reminded just how thoroughly I know her.  “Not that I don’t enjoy the sight – it does bring several delightful memories to life.  Of course, we do have this room to ourselves for another thirty minutes.  If you’d rather forgo the training altogether and have hot monkey sex, then –”

   Tess felt her control over her temper snap.  She lashed out with her legs, taking Sands by surprise; he toppled as she propelled herself to her feet.  Tess launched herself at him, intending to pin him to the floor for once, but he was prepared and flipped her over his head.  She landed on her back, feeling her muscles protest the air was knocked from her body.  Sands was on top of her before she knew it, straddling her body but not pinning her arms to the floor.  It didn’t matter, or at least it wouldn’t until she could breathe again.

   “What’s wrong, Teresa?  Did I hit a sore spot?”  If he wasn’t careful, this was going to go farther than he’d planned for this afternoon.  “Don’t you like to be reminded that you’re just like every other person on the planet and just want to get laid every once in awhile?”  No answer.  “Or is it just that you don’t like being reminded that I was the one you eventually let get past your straight-laced exterior?”  Still she said nothing.  Sands resumed the attack, unsure why he was pushing her so far.  It was true that the plan was to eventually get back in her pants, but . . . “Oh, I know what it is.  You don’t like remembering what it’s like to give all your control to someone you don’t like.  You don’t like remembering just how good I can make you feel.  You don’t like the fact that you liked being treated like a two-bit whor–”  Before he could finish the sentence, Tessa’s fist caught his cheekbone.  He recoiled from the blow.

   Tess arched under him, flipping him onto his back, then straddled his waist as her hands locked around his wrists.  She had to make him be quiet.  She didn’t want to hear what he was saying, because it was exactly what she was afraid of.

   Sands recovered his wits quickly, looking up at Tess from his position on his back.  He tested her hold and found that she meant business; she was supporting some of her weight on her arms, a double insurance that he wouldn’t get free.  Her eyes held a mixture of anger and confusion.  It wouldn’t take more than a few words to make her act out on what she was feeling.  The question was, did he want her to?  Why not?  “I should have known you’d like being on top.”

   Tess knew that if she didn’t make him shut up, she was going to do something she regretted, but her hands were somewhat full at the moment.  Her mind dragged up an image of Tess kissing Sands into submission on a jet plane.  She seized onto that image and repeated the procedure without question.  She was beyond that now. 

   Her body reacted, sealing off Sands’ mouth with hers.  Sands felt his own reaction as the low-level arousal that’d been plaguing him for the past hour burst into full-flower.  Apparently the key to getting Tess to submit fully to her desires was to get her so upset that she couldn’t think straight.  Unfortunately, by that point, he couldn’t think straight either.

   Tessa struggled as Sands rolled them with his body, taking control of the kiss.  His voice was silenced now, but hers wasn’t.  She was having a hard time telling if this was a good thing, a bad thing, an imaginary thing, or a memory.  When Sands started to roughly grope her body, she realized that this wasn’t a memory or imaginary, but the other two points were still undecided.  Was this good or bad?

   While you’re trying to decide that, maybe you should, I don’t know, take over again?

   Tess agreed.  She softened her lips enough that Sands would think she was giving in to him.  He bought it, raising his head to look at her, trying to decide just how far it was safe to go at the moment.  Taking advantage of his distraction, Tess again rolled them over, making sure to pin his hips this time instead of his hands.  Her internal battle raged on, giving her no reason to stop or to proceed.  Sands was the one that finally settled her physical indecision; one of his hands wrapped itself in her hair and brought her head down to meet his.

   This time, the kiss was softer, passionate instead of ruthlessly dominating.  As his lips teased hers, Tess felt the argument for ending things now fading before the urge to let things go further.  The sensations were still too new for her to deal with, different from the last time they’d done this.

   When Sands pushed himself up to his knees, Tess moved with him, scrambling to keep some space between their bodies, but refusing to give up their lip-lock.  Sands took what he could get at the moment, sure that he could persuade her to eventually get naked with him.  He had to bite back a moan as one of her hands slid into his hair, playing with the sweat dampened strands with fingers made gentle by uncertainty.  God, this woman was so arousing.  One moment she was fully in command of herself, the next she was as hesitant as a schoolgirl.  Part of him cried out to educate that timid side of her, part said that he was taking advantage of her sexual innocence, and part of him said he really didn’t give a damn.  She was a grown woman – she could take care of herself.

   Yes, other than the fact that her own mind betrays her sometimes.  How can you even be sure of which part of her you’ve aroused?  Maybe it’s Tess, but maybe it’s crazy!Tess.  Sands deepened the kiss, trying to ignore his conscience.  He’d lived most of his life without it – he didn’t need it butting in now.

   Tess moaned as Sands’ tongue confidently thrust into her mouth.  This still didn’t feel quite right, but it felt good, and she’d so rarely felt good.  If Sands was a drug, then she was well on her way to addiction, and if there was one thing she’d learned growing up in a drug family, it was how well people could be controlled through their additions . . . .

   Sands groaned as Tess pulled free, but he didn’t fight her.  It was true that he could probably overpower any doubts that might be running through her mind, but that’d just make things harder for him the next time around.  Tess got to her feet, unpleasantly surprised to find that her knees were a bit shaky.  Nonetheless, she backed away from Sands, slowly shaking her head.  She wouldn’t allow herself to be controlled.  Not like this and not by this man.

   “Running, conejo?”

   “Of the 36 ways of avoiding disaster, running away is always best.”  Still keeping her eyes trained on the man who was upsetting her, Tess picked up her shoes, jacket, and bag, and left the room before he could say anything else.

    He let her go.  He’d seen the confused and accusing look in her eyes – hardly a look that inspired him to press her for more.  She was skittish and she didn’t trust him . . . but she was vulnerable when it came to him.  As nice as that was, it disturbed him that he was somewhat vulnerable to her as well.  It was a good thing that Tess had left when she had, he had to do some thinking about exactly what he wanted from her and how to best do that.

   Groaning, he got up from the floor, ignoring his knees as they let out quiet protests.  He slipped on his own shoes and left the private room, not at all surprised to find that Tess was nowhere in sight.  Not that it mattered at the moment, but she was going to have to get used to working under his command.

*  *  *  *  *

Tess had retreated to the ladies’ locker room.  In her state, it would be a mistake to get behind the wheel of a car.  With a single-mindedness that was born of confusion and low-level panic, she went into one of the curtained dressing rooms and sat down on the bench, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on them.

   Quietly, she tried to catch her breath.  That had been too close.  It was one thing to make a mistake once; it was another thing entirely to make it again.  But no matter how hard she tried to clear her mind, she could still feel the texture of Sands’ lips against hers, the heat of his hands.  She realized she was shaking.  With effort, she stilled her body.  Withdrawal, she thought dazedly.  Then, realizing what she’d thought, she tensed.  No.  He’s not that important.  If I was going to go through withdrawal, it would have been last year after I’d been around him for months.

   The only second chance we get is to make the same mistake twice.

   I haven’t made that mistake yet.

   Yes, you have.

   How?

   You left before you knew how to deal with the feelings and sensations.

   So I should have stayed and . . . and. . . .

   No.

   Then I was right to leave?

   No.

   Fed up, Tess thought harshly, Then just what is it that I should have done?

   It is not possible to fight beyond your strength even if you strive.

   She recognized the quote from Homer.  Just what are you suggesting?  She had the feeling that she wasn’t going to like it.

   I’m suggesting that if you don’t want to turn into an unthinking pile of goo every time Sands touches you, you need to learn how to cope with the feelings he causes.

   The only way to do that is to experience them, and there’s only one way to experience them.  The voice was silent, offering no counsel.  She knew what that meant.  No.  No, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.  You felt that.  It was different than the last time.  If every time I . . . become intimate with someone is going to be different, then this is a pointless exercise.

   It’s not like I want you to go out and sleep with every man you meet.  Just the one that presents the worst threat.  Once you know what to expect from him and from your body, then you’ll be fine.

   And if I do get addicted?  The hormones released during and after sex can be very habit forming.

   Don’t worry.  I’ll handle that part.  That didn’t comfort her.  Look.  He’s going to keep pressing his advantage every chance he gets.  What is it that Sun Tzu said?

   Find your enemy’s weakness and exploit it.  Tess gave the whole cockamamie scheme some thought.  So, what you’re suggesting, is that I shore up that particular weakness before he can get a good foothold.

   It’s better than falling into bed with him against your better judgment.  At least if it’s your choice and you know why you’re doing it, then it shouldn’t be that bad.  Irreverently, it added, Besides, he’s got a good body.

   Shut up.  Tess realized her cell phone was ringing and that it probably had been for some time.  She pulled the phone out of her bag and answered it.  “Hello?” 

   “Aunt Tess, Amy wants to know if I can spend the night at her house.”

   Tess smiled at the plaintive tone in Alma’s voice, before the voice in her head butted into the conversation.  Sands would love to spend the night with you.

   Give it up!  It’s not going to happen.  “Isn’t tonight a school night, Alma?”

    You mean it won’t happen tonight.

   “No, Tía.  We have tomorrow off.  It’s parent-teacher conferences.”

    It won’t happen ever.  “Ok.  Then, is your homework done?”

   Sooner or later, one of us is going to wear you down.

   “Yes, Tía.”

   Tess put her importunate voice on hold as she considered Alma’s request.  “Have you already asked Mrs. Milner?”

   “Yes.”

   “All right, then it’s fine with me.”  Over the squeals and the excited chatter that told Tess that Amy was at Alma’s elbow, Tess loudly said, “But I want you to make sure your room is picked up before you go, or I’ll come over and get you.”

   “Yo prometo, tía.  Adios!”

   When she heard the irritating buzz of a dial tone, Tess hung up, resting her head against the wall of the small changing room.  Taking a deep breath, she realized that the voice had quieted for the moment, and that her body – while sore – was once more under her control.

   Being very careful to remain focused only on leaving the gym, Tess left the dressing room.  She avoided meeting anyone’s eyes as she exited the building.  As long as she didn’t get distracted from keeping her mind blank, she could keep her voice under control – or at least unaware of what else was going on around her.  And it worked . . . until she got to her car.

   If she had been fully in her own little world, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the small note tucked under her windshield wiper, but Tess had learned long ago that being in ‘your own little world’ was just as dangerous as letting her voice run wild through her mind.  So, since she hadn’t closed herself off from the surrounding world, she instinctively reached out and took the note from her windshield, holding it in one hand as she unlocked her car and got back inside.

   You didn’t check the backseat first.

   I didn’t need to.  Sands got what he wanted . . . for today.  Setting her bag on the passenger’s seat, Tess opened the note.

Niña,

      be at the shooting range on Willow Street at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon.  Don’t make me come and get you.

Tess rested her head on the steering wheel in defeat.  But I don’t like guns.

Just do it.

   You do it.

   I would, if you would loosen up.

   Tess paced back and forth in her expensive hotel room in San Antonio.  Even now she found it hard to believe that she was here.  The months since November had wizzed by, almost faster than she could believe.  She’d gotten here 24 hours before, and had had just enough time to check in, get some sleep, and worry herself to death.

   Tomorrow she was supposed to go down to the bank and make a rather large withdrawal from the bank from one of those offshore accounts that were in her name. That would tip Keel – or someone like him – off to her whereabouts, and after that, things would hopefully go according to Sands’ master plan.

   Sands.  Again, it came down to Sands.  It always seemed to come down to him, it seemed.  The man was immovable.  Which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t plan for contingencies – she’d heard multiple ones over the weeks, and those were just the ones he wanted to share.  What scared her was what would happen if she didn’t fit into his plans.  Not that she wasn’t used to that – she could take care of herself if push came to shove.

   That’s not what we were worrying about.  No.  What they’d been worrying about was her continued . . . sensitivity to Sands’ presence.  The man had become a hundred times more unnerving since regaining his sight and since they’d . . . .  Had sex?

   Yeah.  That.  Tessa’s pacing redoubled, taking her all around the rather large suite at the top of the San Antonio Hyatt hotel.  Sands was a floor below her for tonight.  Tomorrow morning he was checking out and she was on her own . . .so to speak.  He’d be ghosting around in the background somewhere, but she was going to be the one that everyone looked at.  She was the fulcrum that all these plans rested on, and she couldn’t even make up her own mind about descending a staircase.

   You could invite him up here.

   And do what?

   You know what.  Don’t get cute with me.  Save that for ‘Sheldon.’

   Who’s ‘Sheldon’?  Tess even did the air quotes that she felt her voice had used.

   Sands, you idiot.  Weren’t you paying attention when Inge called him by name?

   No.  Tess turned and went to the large windows that led out to the deck outside.  There was no way she was going to actually set a single foot outside, but the view was pretty, if reminiscent of Rapunzel looking out over the forests around her solitary tower.  Returning to her previous line of conversation, she commented, Besides.  Sands bugged the room before I got here.  There’s no way anything is going to happen without someone knowing about it, and I’m not an exhibitionist.

   I am.

   Good for you.  It’s my body, not yours.

   Yes.  And your body might end up getting us in a lot of trouble if you can’t even keep from blushing uncontrollably every time he looks at you sideways.  What happens if you’re on the job and catch sight of him?  It wouldn’t be pretty, let me assure you.

   Tess was quickly growing tired of this debate.  It was all she’d heard for the past month and a half, practically.  Whether to grab the bull by the horns, as it were, or to let the status quo keep playing out for as long as she could maintain even the thinnest veneer of a professional.  As much as she didn’t want to admit it – and would never admit it out loud – being . . . intimate with Sands again did have it’s own amount of appeal.  Of course, it also had a downside – like him losing all respect for her, and her losing all respect of herself – but the circular and repetitive conversations were nearly enough to make her scream in frustration.

   It was a matter of time now.  The only point up for debate was whether she was going to let any sort of sexual relationship between them be her choice.  If she didn’t decide soon, someone was going to take advantage of her indecision.  Either Sands or the voice, and neither choice was appealing.  So where did that leave her?

   It leaves you alone in you penthouse suite.  Just leave the room, take the elevator down a floor, knock on Sands’ door, then jump his bones.  This isn’t brain surgery, Teresa.

   No, but it does have rather far-reaching consequences.  In the face of her weakening protests, Tess found herself crossing the room, moving from the windows to the door.

   Like what?  Her voice was very skeptical, as if it knew that Tess was holding a very weak hand.

   Which she was.

   Well. . . .

   Don’t play the pregnancy card, because we both know you’ve taken care of that little inconvenience.  Don’t try the loss of respect one, because he really didn’t respect you much in the first place, so you’ve nothing to loose.  Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of him, because I know you’re not.  If you were, you wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t be wasting time arguing with me.  The simple truth of the matter is you want  to go see him, but you don’t want him to think that you do.  Well, tough.  Besides, that’s the one reason he wouldn’t expect you to visit for, so you might as well use that to your advantage.

   Tess paused with her hand on the doorknob to the room.  Why is this a good idea again?

   Think of it as an inoculation.  He’s a particularly nasty bug that you will continue to catch until you become immune to him.  To his voice, his eyes, his touch . . . his body.  You must be able to think clearly when the family comes calling; otherwise, they’ll chew you up and spit you out, and neither of us wants to see that happen.  The voice could feel Tessa finally weakening, so it held back its comment that Tess wanted to sleep with Sands again.  It’d only throw her back into turmoil, and this inaction was wearing on all parts of Tess equally.  It’s for the best.

   There was almost a hint of kindness to the voice that Tess didn’t necessarily trust; she appreciated it, but she wasn’t sure how genuine it was.  How much of it was for her – Tessa’s – wellbeing, and how much was for the voice’s own pleasure?  Pleasure . . . .

   Hesitantly, Tess opened the door to her room, making sure to grab a key on her way out the door.  She slowly walked down the hallway, passing by the elevator in favor of the stairs.  There’d be less people on the stairs.

   Before she knew it, she was on Sands’ floor.  Counting her steps in an effort to calm herself, she made her way to Sands’ room, stopping outside of it and tracing the numbers on the door.  1013.  The number seemed familiar for some reason, but she couldn’t think why.  Se looked up and down the hallway – it was completely empty.  Totally silent.  Glancing at her watch, she saw it was past midnight.  What am I doing?  I can’t do this.  She started to back away . . . but her feet weren’t responding.  No.  I’ve changed my mind.

   Grow up.  Almost as if she were in a dream, Tess watched her right hand rise to knock softly on the door.  As soon as she heard the sound of her knuckles meeting wood, her paralysis shattered, leaving her uncertain and strangely excited.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands was a light sleeper.  It paid off to be able to sleep with one eye open in his line of work.  So when the timid knock came on his door, his eyes slowly opened as his mind immediately jumped to analyzing his surroundings.

   He was alone and the room was semi-dark, the only light being provided by the half-open door to the bathroom.  He was lying on top of the bed, dressed just in a pair of sweats.  Winter in San Antonio wasn’t cold . . . but it wasn’t exactly warm either.

   For a moment he wasn’t even certain if he’d been wakened by anything more than a dream.  The room was silent, nothing was disturbed, and he couldn’t even hear the sound of someone else breathing.  But just as he was about to dismiss the sound of a knock as a figment of his imagination, it came again.  Just as quiet, just as timid, just as polite as it’d been the first time.  Whoever was out there obviously wanted his attention, but didn’t want to intrude.

   Squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, Sands really hoped that it wasn’t that red-head from the bar earlier that night.  He still didn’t know why he hadn’t just ordered room service, but he hadn’t.  And while the petite woman had been pleasant enough to look at – and had been an excellent person to flirt with – he hadn’t been nearly interested enough in her to invite her up, even though it’d been clear that she would have jumped at the opportunity.  He looked at the bedside clock – 1:27 am.  If that was her, she was going to be rudely awakened.  He had other things to worry about tomorrow, more than how to tumble a sleepy-eyed woman out of his bed.

   -Knock, knock, knock-   Groaning, Sands got out of bed, stretched, picked up his handgun, and walked to the door.  Completely soundless in his bare feet, he paused to look out the peephole at who was bothering him at this time in the morning.  To his great surprise, it was Tessa.  She was standing just over the threshold of the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, and her head turned to look up and down the empty corridor.  He’d checked in on her several times during the day, so had seen what she’d been wearing.  She was dressed the same now as she had been then.

   He rolled his eyes and shook his head, briefly considering going back to bed.  But he’d seen just how close to the edge of giving up his partner in crime was.  It wouldn’t take much to make her turn tail and run back to New York.  And whether he liked it or not, he did need her to make this all work.  He just wasn’t looking forward to being ‘comforting.’

   Tess jumped in surprise when the door to Sands’ room flew open.  She barely contained a squeak of fright, instead using that fear to freeze her muscles before she took off down the hallway.  Now that Sands had answered the door, she couldn’t just make a lame excuse and leave.  For better or worse, she’d made her decision.

   Sands wasn’t sure what she was thinking as he looked into Tessa’s completely guileless face.  Her eyes were enormous, shockingly blue in a face made pale with tension.  He fully expected her to start trembling or break into tears at any minute . . . but she didn’t.  She just stood where she was, balanced like a doe ready to run for cover, and looked at him.  Thrown a little off balance himself, Sands asked, “Can I help you?”

   “I . . . umm . . . I couldn’t sleep.”  That was brilliant.  Sands rolled his eyes, but he moved out of the doorway, motioning for her to come in.  Hesitantly, she did, trying to relax knotted muscles as Sands closed the door behind her, and the light from the hallway was cut off, leaving them in a murky twilight inside the room.

   Sands noticed the stiff set of her shoulders.  Apparently she was more upset about the imminent reunion with her family than he’d thought.  “Nervous?”

   Nodding absentmindedly, Tess thought, You have no idea.  In her state of mind, Tess missed the cautious concern in Sands’ voice.  All her focus was being channeled into the discipline not to bolt.  If this was how just being near the man made her feel, then perhaps the voice was right.  How could anyone function like this?

   She turned just in time to see Sands reach for a light-switch.  “No!  Don’t!”  It was bad enough that she was here without having to see everything in graphic detail.  The dark made things appear more dreamlike.  Even the strange look on Sands’ face was easier to deal with.  “I . . . I umm . . . it’s dark.  I wouldn’t want the light to hurt your eyes.”

   That sounded reasonable, but Sands could hear another motive in her voice.  A motive that sounded rather closely related to desire, except jumpier.  He leaned back against the door, and waited for Tess to make the next move.  She’d come to him for something; let her be the one to make the opening gambit.  And in the meantime, he’d like to see her face a bit more clearly.

   Tess leaped forward when Sands turned on the lights to the room.  Grabbing his wrist in one hand, she flipped the lights back off, blinking to rid her eyes of the spots dancing in front of them.  “Please . . .”

   “I’m used to seeing the people I’m talking to, niña.  And that usually requires light.”  Instinctively, Sands flexed his wrist under Tessa’s hand, testing her grip.  It was firm, but in no way unrelenting.  He could free himself if he wished . . . but at the moment he decided that he liked having Tess this close to him.  In fact, he was close enough to see the trace of shame that flitted over her face, right before she tried to move away, moving to turn on the lights for herself.  For him.

   Rolling his eyes again, Sands pulled Tess out of the small hallway into the slightly larger sitting area.  He roughly sat her on the couch while he sat directly across from her on the coffee table.  For a moment silence was once again allowed to reign heavily while Sands examined Tessa’s down-turned face, trying to figure out exactly why she’d come to him.

   When the silence had gone on long enough to become exponentially uncomfortable, Tess finally looked up from her study of the rather uninteresting carpet.  She’d come this far, she couldn’t turn back now without a complete loss of face.  And Sands was making it clear that things were up to her.  But that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

   Biting her lip, she noticed that her hand was still holding on to his wrist.  The fact that he hadn’t pulled free both confused and comforted her at the same time.  She was well aware that he didn’t like being touched, so the knowledge that he hadn’t pulled free was somewhat reassuring.  Maybe things would work after all.

   Sands watched as Tess wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.  When he added that to the way that her eyes were slowly drifting up his arm to his torso, he felt the first buzz of arousal at the base of his neck.  When her eyes finally met his – albeit briefly – that seed of desire burst into full bloom.  The look in Tessa’s eyes was that of a woman who’d sought out a man with a certain outcome in mind.  The hint of fear in her eyes only amplified the confidence she’d shown in coming here.

   Tess felt shivers move down her spine at the sudden heat that flared in Sands’ eyes.  Sleeping lions.  The thought was disjointed, completely at odds from the way her eyes were roving over his bare chest.  The last time she’d been in any position to do this, she’d been too focused on surviving the ordeal to take in the landscape.  But now . . . now she was very aware of the color of his skin, of the way that skin stretched over muscle and bone, of the way the hair on his forearms was standing because of the slight chill in the room, and of his several tattoos.  There was one on his upper left arm, near the shoulder, one on his left forearm, and another – smaller – one over his heart.  She vaguely remembered seeing them when she’d given him that sponge bath over a year ago, but then – as a few weeks ago – she’d had other things on her mind.

   As much as Sands didn’t mind the admiration in Tessa’s eyes, he was getting a bit bored with just sitting here and letting her look her fill.  He reached for her to pull her forward, but she balked.  “Relax, conejo.  I – ”

   She shook her head, interrupting him.  “No.  Not tonight.”  Perhaps never.  This thought she kept to herself.  Sands would be more cooperative if he thought he would get his way later on.

   Sands hadn’t missed the flash of fear that’d accompanied her statement.  He’d been wrong.  She wasn’t scared of confronting her family . . . she was scared about being alone with him.  But she was here.  And she was taking the initiative.  He wasn’t adverse to taking a backseat . . . this time.  He would get her back, though.  Even if he had to tie her to a sturdy piece of furniture.  A mental image accompanied that thought, and it was rather . . . inspiring.

   Tess didn’t know where to go from here.  That is, she knew, but she wasn’t sure about it.  Help?

   Oh my god.  Don’t tell me you need help with this.  You’re a healthy, red-blooded woman of Latino descent.  Are you honestly telling me that you can’t figure this out on your own?   The voice was almost breathless, sounding ever so much more aroused than Tess felt.  It also sounded irritated by the intrusion.  Just follow your instincts.  The biological urge to reproduce and all that rot.  And if that doesn’t work, ask him for help.  With that advice, it was like a door slammed somewhere in Tessa’s mind.  Not a wooden door, but a glass one.  Enough to keep her out, but not enough to keep the voice from observing the proceedings.

   Tess looked up, both from her internal debate and her intense study of Sands’ body.  She swallowed hard before looking Sands in the face, uncertain of what she would find there.  What she found was that she was being subjected to an equally powerful stare and the sneaking suspicion that Sands knew exactly what her problem was.  No point in hiding it, then, I suppose.  Tessa wet her lips again, before whispering, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

   The admission was almost enough to make Sands shove Tessa out the door.  Almost enough for him to end things here and now and tell her to go back to her room and get some sleep.  Almost.  It was the darker side of him that clamped down on the whispered admission and held onto it.  She was still so innocent.  Still so pure.  So open to being made completely his.  And then his common sense broke in on that daydream and more realistically pointed out that this was a good opportunity to win some of her trust.  Not to make her his to keep, but his to manipulate and eventually abandon.  That was his purpose.  That was his ultimate goal – beyond leaving Mexico with his body fully intact.

   He ignored the small part of him that found his tactics despicable, and focused instead on maintaining a cool head for the time being.  The part of him that screamed against using Tess was strangled until its cry was nothing more than a desire to be gentle enough with Tess that she wouldn’t get scared.  He was already physically ready to take things farther . . . but Tess was going to take persuasion.  And he looked forward to it, in a masochistic sort of way.

   “What do you want to do?”

   Tess listened to that question with a sense of disbelief.  She didn’t know.  That was the problem.  Okay.  Calm down.  Think.  What’s something you enjoyed the . . . the last time?  A quiet answer rang inside of her; she’d liked kissing.

   The woman across from him didn’t answer, but her eyes did lock onto his lips for more than a moment, before rising to meet his gaze again.  Well, that seemed apparent enough.  Moving slowly, doing his best not to startle Tess, Sands moved to sit beside her on the couch.  Tess swallowed hard when she found herself so much closer to Sands, but the way her heart was speeding up was . . . it felt good.  She shivered, suddenly cold and the need to be warm was more than she could stand.

   Sands watched as Tess folded one leg under her to make herself taller on the couch, before she leaned in and kissed his jaw.  For a moment her newfound incentive wavered, torn between the desire to conquer new territory – the spot right behind his ear – and the need to reacquaint herself with familiar territory – his mouth.  The unknown proved to be too much of a daunting choice, though.  Slowly, Tessa’s mouth ghosted along Sands’ jaw until she’d reached his lips.  She pulled away for a moment to study his face, her own countenance deadly serious, before closing the inches separating them.

   She almost hummed in satisfaction when Sands met her but didn’t overwhelm her.  Last time he’d dominated her, this time he was . . . letting her play.  Explore.  Accustom herself to him; to his body, to the way he smelled, to the way he tasted.

   It was hard for Sands to sit still and keep his hands to himself until she was ready.  Tess was being so torturously slow that he was tempted to speed things up.  If he could convince her to sleep with him against her better judgment, then surely it’d be even easier to get her into bed when she was here of her own free will.  But the fear that’d been in her eyes came back to his mind, and he resisted the urge to strip her shirt from her and press her back against the couch cushions.  She hadn’t been scared the last time.

   Tess was trying to catalogue and analyze everything she felt as she felt it, but was failing miserably.  The entire point of this had been to help get used to the way he made her felt, but how could she when she couldn’t process the sensations running through her body?  Maybe she just needed to change their contact.

   Slowly, carefully, Tess parted her lips.  Hesitantly, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, asking permission for more, for deeper contact.  Sands readily opened, fighting to keep from taking over the kiss.  The moment his tongue met hers, she was lost.  Any thought of analyzing was lost.  All that was left was desire, uncertainty, and a trace of fear.  Fear she wanted to lose.

   Sands noticed when Tessa’s kiss changed from tentative to distressed.  And while it was nice, he wondered at the change.  He pulled away from Tess, watching her face as her eyes opened.  They were clouded with desire, but the fear that’d made him hesitate before was still there.  What had he gotten himself into?  There was still time to get her to leave.  It would be painful . . . .

   “Please. . . .”  Tessa’s whisper jolted Sands back to reality.  There was no way in hell he was going to let her go.  She was simply too sexy for her own good at the moment.  It was rare to find a woman that was genuinely uncertain instead of coy . . . or at least, it was something he’d rarely found.  The chance to be the one to make that fear go away was too good to pass up.

   Tessa’s eyes widened as the wrist she was still holding, twisted to grab her wrist.  “Relax, Tessa.  I’m not going to hurt you.  You know that.”  She did know that.  He wasn’t . . . he didn’t . . . there wasn’t an aura of suppressed violence around him at the moment.  “Do you want to finish what you started?”  Yes.  She did. 

   When she nodded, Sands used his hold on her arm to pull her closer to him, before changing his mind and pulling her to her feet after him.  He pulled her into the bedroom, stopping just inside the door and pulling her against his body.  With determination, he started kissing her, starting at her neck, and moving up.  Tessa’s eyes drifted closed as he kissed neck, ear, throat, chin, cheekbones, temple, nose, lips.  Her head was rolling on her neck by the time Sands finally deepened the kiss.  Things weren’t as overwhelming this time.  Perhaps she’d been right to do this after all.

   “I want to lie down on the bed with you.”

   Tess nodded, giving her consent.  Her knees were starting to feel shaky, and she didn’t want to collapse.  So when Sands moved towards the bed, still kissing her, still holding her head in his hands, she went with him.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess groaned as a buzzer went off by her head.  She rolled and buried her head in her pillow, taken aback when her nose picked up an unfamiliar scent.  Confused, she rolled over, looking around the room with eyes that were nothing more than slits in her face.  It was bright in here – the curtains were wide open.

   For a moment she was confused when she realized this wasn’t her room, but almost immediately she remembered the events of the previous night.  Or morning.  It’d been after midnight when she’d come down here.  To see Sands.  With the express purpose of getting laid.

   Yes, but for scientific reasons.

   Oh yes, very ‘scientific.’  Looking down, Tess saw that she was completely naked.  Wrapping the sheet around her, she slammed the alarm clock to turn it off.  It was getting perilously close to 8:00 am.  If she didn’t get up now, she wouldn’t be able to for another hour, and housekeeping made their rounds at 9:15.  She was sure Sands didn’t want her here when they came around.  They couldn’t have any connects between them . . . at least not visible ones.

   Climbing out of the bed, Tess cautiously poked her head into the small bathroom – it was empty.  As was the rest of the hotel room.  Sands was gone, his bags nowhere to be seen, any trace of him having been here gone, except for Tess herself.

   Looking around the room, Tess found her clothes, stacked in a sloppy pile on a nearby chair.  She abandoned the sheet and got dressed, not bothering to put on her shoes.  She needed to get out.  She needed to get to her own room, take a shower or a very long bath, and get dressed in some sort of outfit that would make her look like some sort of socialite with old money.  Not the Paris Hilton and Brittney Spears look that was so popular, but more along the lines of . . . someone on their way to a charity auction for orphans in Botswana or something.

   Not to mention there were no memories of Sands lying in wait for her in her own room.

   Unfortunately, the previous night wasn’t that easy to put out of her head.  Again, she opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to run into anyone who would wonder why she was looking so disheveled so early in the morning.  “Not that they wouldn’t be able to figure it out,” she muttered.  “I’m really not sure this is worth it.”  With every step, Tess felt the muscles of her legs and some other rarely used muscles complaining that she was taking the stairs too fast.   Every step was a reminder that she’d had sex, not once, but twice, the night before.  She felt her face breaking out into embarrassed flames, but she didn’t feel all that regretful or repentant.  Which was odd, if she thought about it.

   Why is that odd?  So you figured out you’re a woman, and you’re a woman who enjoys men.  Tess could feel the voice stretch as if it’d been asleep.  Just don’t get used to it.  I’m not against a little bit of nookie now and again, but you’re dangerously close to liking that man, which is not acceptable.  He’s the enemy – remember that.  They’re all the enemy.

   Tess shook her head as she unlocked the door to her room.  No.  I won’t live like that.  I don’t want to live like that. 

   It’s true though.  Perhaps they’re not all out to kill you, but they’ll all take advantage of you.  And Sands wouldn’t regret it.  He’d say it’s your own fault for being so trusting.

   One of us has to be trusting.

   Ok, you be naive and I’ll keep us alive.

   I resent the fact that you think I’ll get myself killed without your eye constantly on me.  She slowly undressed again, folding her dirty clothes and putting them in the cloth bag she always took with her on trips for that purpose.  Dirty and clean clothes didn’t need to mix.

   There’s worse things than death, Teresa.  You know that.

   She did.  But wasn’t something she needed to ponder as she was getting ready to let the world of organized crime in Mexico know where she was.  So she flippantly answered, Yeah, there are.  All of which I’ll experience if I’m late getting to the bank.  Sands will have my hide.

   Why not?  He’s had everything else.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess stood in front of the mirror, making last moment adjustments to her hair and clothing.  Appearance was everything.  Years ago, she’d perfected how to look tidy and successful without drawing anyone’s eyes to her.  It’d been an essential part of her existence at the cartel compound.  If a single hair was out of place, she would be punished, and the longer she went without attracting anyone’s attention, the better.  But that wasn’t the look she was striving for today.  Today she needed to appear successful, confident, and in charge.  It wasn’t everyday someone withdrew hundreds of thousands of dollars, and not everyone would be allowed to do so . . . especially from accounts as closely guarded as the ones she was attempting to access.  Whatever bank official she ended up dealing with could not be allowed to harbor a single doubt as to who she was.  Hence, the $300 outfit she was wearing.

   It’d taken her some time to decide what she was going to wear.  Her wardrobe was mainly dresses and business suits which were perfectly acceptable for a professor at a small community college.  But that wasn’t the image she wanted to project.  After searching through her closet several times and dismissing every item that was meant for cold Great Lake winters, she’d pieced together an ensemble that should convey the image she wished to project.  First, there was the long black wrap-around skirt.  There was a line of fringe down the right side, giving the illusion that the skirt really had been wrapped around her waist several times.  On top of that was a sleeveless mock turtleneck in a shade of deep, rich, turquoise blue, meant to emphasize her eyes.  She’d wanted to wear red – it was such a warm, friendly, forgiving color – but the entire point of this exercise had been to help her look like a spoiled heiress or some jet-setter.  And that meant enhancing her natural features whenever she could.   Then, over the shirt, she was planning to wear a long black duster.  It was one of her favorite things to wear because she loved the way the sleeves belled out around her hands.

   To complement that, she was wearing silver bangle-bracelets and a pin of silver and turquoise that’d been worked in the shape of a turtle.  She’d decided against earrings, deciding that her hair was enough to have around her face.  If there was one thing she would say, it was she liked her hair.  She wasn’t too fond of her eyes, and her face was only slightly above average – although it was plain when she compared it to what Ajedrez had looked like – but her hair was a dark ash brown, wavy, and grown a little past her shoulders.  When she fastened part of it behind her head with a silver hairclip, two strands hung down to frame her face.

   I suppose I look presentable, she thought, although my bangs could use a trim.  She smiled softly when her mind pulled up a thought from a book she’d once read – one of the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Something about lunatic fringe; that’s what they called bangs.

   A buzzer went off in the other room.  With a deep sigh to bolster herself, Tess left the bathroom, picked up her purse and her attaché, grabbed a room key, and went downstairs.  It was time to do this.

   Whether she felt like she could do it or not.

The lobby of the hotel was busy.  There was the pre-lunch crowd that was leaving and the lunch crowd that was arriving, not to mention a bus-load of tourists who appeared to be checking out.

   Tess easily threaded her way through the crowd, staying on the fringes, skirting the potted plants.  There was a tense moment when she nearly collided with an overeager bellboy, but she did manage to get past the door man and outside to freedom without incident.  Without incident, but unsure as how to get to the bank.  She knew what bank, but not where it was.  Taxi then, she thought with a silent groan.  She hated taxies.  They were dirty, and their drivers were usually dirty, and they drove too fast and too recklessly . . . but she really didn’t have much of a choice.  She couldn’t ask for directions because she couldn’t keep a map straight in her head, and she didn’t want to end up walking miles to get there anyway.

   “Miss?”  Tess looked to her side and saw the doorman standing there.  The man was ancient; his face was lined with more wrinkles than she could count and his shoulders were stooped, but he had a kind smile on his face.  “Can I help you?”

   “Yes.  I need a taxi.”

   The old man nodded and took her by the elbow, leading her over to a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb.  “Where are you going, miss?”

   “Winston and Harnel, the bank.”

   The doorman escorted her to the door of the cab, opening it for her and lending a hand as she got in.  Then he closed the door and told the cabbie where she was going.  Before she knew it, she was on her way to the bank.

   The ride was completed in silence, something for which Tess was eternally grateful.  In her admittedly limited experience, cabbies liked to talk.  And she wasn’t adroit at making small-talk at the best of times . . . of which this wasn’t.  All her energy was focused on one thing at the moment – keeping perspective on everything.  Today she withdrew the money, but it wouldn’t be for another two or three days at the least before anyone tracked her down.  That would be time enough to prepare for her return to Mexico.

   “I’m charging you for using my backseat as a sitting room, lady.”

   Tess jumped, suddenly aware that the car wasn’t moving any longer.  “I’m sorry.”  Gathering her belongings, Tess got out of the cab, blinking in the harsh sunlight.  With one hand she dug her sunglasses out of her purse while turning back to the cabbie who was still waiting for his fee.  “Can you wait for me?”  The man was gruff, but she didn’t want to go through the hassle of finding another cab during the lunch hour.

   “I dunno.  Can you afford to have me wait?”

   “Yes.  And there’ll be a fifty dollar tip in it for you.”  The cabbie nodded, turning off his engine.  “Thank you.”  He grunted.  And with that, Tess went inside the building.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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