“Eat your posole before it gets cold,” his father said, jarring him out of his dark thoughts.
Timmy spooned in a mouthful and followed it with a big gulp of water. It was some kind of pork dish, and it was burning hot. He had never liked spicy food but he was in Mexico now. He figured he had better get used to it.
“Hurry up and finish so you can go up to your room and get some sleep. I’ve got a tutor for you starting tomorrow morning. We’ll see how your school work is progressing, make sure you don’t backslide. His name is Señor Garcia and he’ll also be teaching you Spanish.”
Timmy’s chest felt tight. He took a deep breath the way the doctor told him to do when he got upset. He didn’t want to start wheezing. He didn’t want his father to think he was a wimp.
He managed to nod. His teachers said he talked too much, but now words seemed to stick in his throat.
“What about Mom?” he asked, the question stupidly popping out of his mouth.
“I’ll call her in a day or two, let her know you’re okay. We’ll give her a little time to get used to the idea you’ll be staying with me, then you can talk to her.”
His head bobbed in agreement, but he felt like crying. He wouldn’t be going home any time soon.
He started to slide the heavy chair back.
“You’ll ask to be excused before you leave.”
He swallowed. “Can I be excused?”
“MayI be excused, and yes, you may.”
As Timmy slid the chair back, crossed the tile floor, and started up the stairs to his bedroom, he wondered if he would ever see his mother and sister again.
CHAPTER TEN
BENITOCORTEZWASN’Tthe only useful contact Alex Romero had in Mexico. He had family here, including a cousin who was living in Monterrey. Diego De La Guerra was a former Mexican soldier now working undercover for the government, part of a joint US-Mexico task force targeting the leaders and finances of the drug cartels.
Diego met them at midnight in a little cantina called El Adobe. It was crowded and noisy, a band playing popular Mexican music on a small stage at the back of the room. Smoke drifted up from wooden tables and there were enough tourists mixed in so that two blond Americans didn’t stand out.
Alex led them to a table off to one side where a good-looking, dark-complexioned, Mexican man with straight black hair pulled into a stubby ponytail lounged back in his chair. A bottle of Dos Equis sat in front of him.
“This is my cousin Diego,” Alex said in English, setting the tone for the meeting. He tipped his head toward the two of them. “These are my friends Lissa Blayne and Colt Wheeler.”
“Thanks for meeting us,” Colt said as they took seats around the battered wooden table.
“You are here for the boy,” Diego said, not bothering with small talk.
“That’s right.
“It is unfortunate El Puñal brought his son here at this time.”
“What do you know about Timmy?” Lissa asked.
A server’s appearance put the answer on hold, a young woman with a pretty face, full breasts bulging from the top of a low-cut blouse, and an obvious eye for Diego.
He pointed to his beer.“Tres mas Dos Equis, por favor.”
“Si, señor.”She flashed him a smile, tossed her long black hair, and sashayed off toward the bar. The conversation remained on hold until she returned with the beers, which Diego generously paid for. Casting him a last interested glance, the waitress merged into the crowd in search of other customers.
Diego’s dark eyes traveled from Colt to Lissa and back again. “Alejandro has told you who I am. He has vouched for you, so I will tell you as much as I can.” The chair creaked as he sat forward. “For almost three months, the task force has been monitoring El Puñal’s movements. We knew he crossed the border into Texas, but we did not know he would be returning with his son.”
“Why didn’t you arrest him when he left the country?” Colt asked. “According to our information, he’s wanted in the States as well as here in Mexico.”
Diego took a long swallow of beer. “As powerful a man as he is, El Puñal is only a small prize compared to the men we are after. Those men will soon be gathering at Spearman’s hacienda to discuss plans to expand the opioid trade in your country, drugs that have been extremely profitable for the cartels. Each man is second in command—segundo—to a cartel leader, in many ways even more deadly. This is a chance to end their reign of terror, a chance to save thousands of lives.”
“When is the meeting?” Lissa asked.
