Chapter Fifty-Nine
Nathan
I tugged on the shirt that I had stolen from the motel lobby’s lost and found. The elbows were so worn I was afraid I would rip it but the thin plaid shirt fit. I snapped the front closed, leaving enough neck exposed to look careless, then I contemplated myself in the mirror again.
The hair dye Bree had bought me worked perfectly. My dark hair now had a reddish hue. I had trimmed my beard back and left a scraggly mustache. My lips itched to get rid of the smarmy facial hair, but I forced my face to settle into a glazed and desperate look.
If this was going to work, I needed to look and act the part.
I practiced my Southern drawl again. “Evening. Any chance you could point me in the right direction?”
I frowned. There was no way of telling if I sounded believable or not. Bree was gone.
I reminded myself for the hundredth time that she was taking Maggie home and it was all for the best, but the thought didn’t comfort me at all. I missed Bree already and if I couldn’t get her out of my head, there was a good chance I would screw up my cover story.
It was ironic, I thought as I stuffed the remaining roll of cash into my boots, that I was posing as someone in desperate need of cash. I strategically split the fat roll into smaller flat folds and tucked one in each boot. Then I folded a few more into the waistband of my underwear before I tucked in my faded shirt.
I had decided the easiest role was that of a gambling addict. I loved to play cards and my own flagrant betting had gotten me into trouble more than once. It would be an easy act for me to pull off. All I had to do was look and sound desperate and hope that someone from the cartel was listening. They would jump at the chance to hook someone like me. I had no family, no connections, and I needed something bad enough to deal with them.
It was a long-shot for making contact with the cartel, but I had nothing left to lose. Maggie was safe, or would be soon, and Bree was gone. If I wanted any hope of catching up to Bree before she started a new life, I needed to wrap this up as fast as possible.
I tugged a cowboy hat low over my eyes to complete the ensemble. It was the perfect prop to fidget with while keeping my hand near the gun in my belt.
The motel clerk was confused when he saw me but his online video loaded and he was anxious to not be working. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I need a suggestion for a place to get a drink,” I said. “Maybe a little action, too. Billiards, cards, you know what I’m saying?”
The clerk frowned at me but I had already paid through the next day, so he had no real interest. “There’s a bar about four miles east of here. Long, narrow building, not a lot of windows, but you’ll see the neon beer signs.”
“Good place to make some bets, play for cash?” I asked.
Again, the clerk pursed his lips but he nodded. “My brother-in-law has lost his whole paycheck down there once or twice.”
It sounded like just the break I needed. And my cover seemed to be working because the clerk was worried about my low cash situation.
“Will you be staying another night?” he asked.
“Nope, but you better make it a late check-out,” I told him. Then I tipped my hat and left the motel, heading in the direction he pointed.
I walked in order to make my appearance dustier, but it was also to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bree, and I swore I could still taste her on my lips. The fresh air and my punishing pace should have been enough to push her to the recesses of my mind.
It didn’t help that I was passing where Maggie and Bree would have jumped the fence into the open field.
I peered out across it as if I could see that they crossed safely. That’s why I almost got hit by the first squad car.
Police careened toward the border crossing and I stood back as the squad cars called curious people out of the restaurants and bars. Everyone’s attention turned toward the border crossing, and my heart turned into a block of cement.
I followed the nosey crowd to the corner where we could all try to catch a glimpse of the commotion. I peered over the crowd and prayed that it wasn’t Maggie and Bree.
Another squad car flew by.
“Any idea what’s going on?” I asked the man standing next to me.
He scrolled through his phone and finally found the social media feed he was hoping for. He showed me his phone and explained, “It was a routine stop until security found blocks of cocaine in the tires of some car.”
“From what I hear, that stuff happens all the time,” I said.
The man snorted. “Yeah, the idiots. Except this time the driver decided to try his luck with a car chase. He just forgot about the tires and the cocaine. Now it’s all over the street.”
So, Bree was safe, even better off now that some stupid criminal had made a big scene at the border crossing.
I thanked the man and turned back toward the dive bar.
I only made it halfway down the block before I turned around. What if the driver had been under orders from the cartel? That would explain why he panicked enough to drive off with cocaine billowing out of his tires.
It was an interesting thought. Even if the driver hadn’t been one of their own, the cartel most likely had someone at the scene. They would want to know who it was if it was one of theirs or what foolish competitor was trying to use their section of the border.
All I had to do was hang around and look for the now-familiar gunmen in their dark suits. It would be much easier to follow them from the crowded streets near the border crossing than from a dive bar on the outskirts of town.
Then I thought of Bree.
If she could stick to the plan despite her protests, then I could, too. I turned away and headed to the dive bar.
Instead of concentrating on my cover story and character, all I could focus on was how I’d find Bree again. It wasn’t until I walked up the steps of the dive bar that I managed to shake her off and concentrate on the task at hand.
I opened the door, ready to check the rude customer pushing his way out. Then I remembered I was in character and had to let the man shove me aside. My fist clenched but I played it up because the door to the bar was open and a few regulars watched with bored expressions.
“Excuse me,” I said, gripping my shoulder as if the rude man had bruised me.
The bartender gave me a shrug. “What’ll it be?”
“How about I start with a glass of ice? I think I’m getting a bruise,” I said.
He shook his head. “Bar is for paying customers only.”
I dug into my front pocket, the one I’d kept deliberately light, and pulled out a few rumpled bills. “Then I’ll take a draft beer.”
The bartender poured it and slid it across the bar from me. He eyed the cash then me before he took it.
I took off my hat and took a sip. “Yeah, that’s the cheap stuff. Hey, if you want a bigger tip maybe you could point me in the direction of some friendly betting?”
The bartender shook his head and moved farther down the bar.
So, I turned to the man closest to me. “I like to play a little pool for money, maybe some cards. Blow off steam, you know? And it doesn’t hurt if I can earn back some of what I lost last week.”
The customer did not smile at my self-deprecation. “Lot of people are hard up these days,” he said.
“Hard up? I’m not hard up,” I laughed too loud. “I’m just ready for the next big thing.”
He tried not to look as I dug into my boot and pulled out a bigger bill.
“See?” I called. “I’ve got a fifty here that says I can break better than any man in the bar.”
“I don’t play pool,” the man said.
“Whatever you want then,” I said. “This little nest egg is all I’ve got but I know it’s lucky. You like poker?”
The man moved away under the pretense of using the bathroom, but he just shifted to the other side of the bar.
I glanced around and saw that my loud talk had done the trick. A group of shifty-looking men were convening near the door and one kept nodding toward me. A phone call was made and I had a feeling my plan had worked.
I had a bad feeling that I was about to come face to face with the New Mexico City Cartel.