Her hands were suddenly wet and her mouth dry. What was he doing?
“Right side or left?” Torres asked but he was already making his way toward the far side of the room.
Beth glanced at the chair in the corner. She expected to spend the next thirty minutes drinking cocktails made from minuscule bottles of overpriced alcohol. Clearly Torres had other plans.
Beth raised her hand in protest but before she could say anything Torres smiled. He was teasing her. Her brain could not make room for the new information. In the long list of characteristics she attributed to Torres, playful was not one of them. He was cold and calculating and lethal when he needed to be. He wasn’t…whatever this was.
“Just play along. You know what they’re expecting. Make them think that you are in here having the time of your life.” The crinkles around his eyes deepened, it was almost like he was smiling but his mouth had forgotten to play its part.
Beth cleared her throat again. “Can’t we just go out in half an hour…maybe high five Flores and then let me go?”
Torres shook his head. “They have not seen me with a woman. It’s going to take more than half an hour to make up for two years of celibacy.”
Beth bit her cheek to stop from asking if it had really been that long since he had been with a woman. It was none of her business. And she didn’t care. “How much time would it take to make up for two years?” she asked instead when her curiosity would not be abated.
A slight smile tugged at his lips. “Why, is there somewhere you need to be?”
Again she forced herself to look him in the eyes. Lucky for her she was a good liar. “As a matter of fact I do. So the thirty minutes starts now.”
This time he rewarded her with a genuine smile. “Well if we only have thirty minutes, we’d better make it one hell of a half hour.” Torres folded the floral cover and laid it across a stool at the foot of the bed before he stretched out. He looked completely relaxed like a lion lying down for his afternoon nap, or like a crocodile ready to snap the bones of a small bird and devour its tattered carcass.
Beth suddenly thought of Torres having sex, no doubt he could accomplish a lot in a half an hour. She sat down on the bed. “Has it really been two years?” She could not stop herself from asking. The question was rude and entirely unprofessional but she was curious.
Torres nodded but did not elaborate.
Beth’s eyes narrowed as her gaze moved over his solid form. Their contact had been limited since Beth had recruited him just shy of two years ago. They met up every eight weeks or so to touch base, but other than their initial meeting and the time she had trained him, their conversations had been brief and to the point. They did not have much to say to one another beyond work, but thirty minutes would pass more quickly if they weren’t just staring at one another. She tried to think of another question to ask him, anything to pass the time, but her mind was mercilessly blank. Well that wasn’t true exactly, she could think of several follow-up questions about his sex life but she wasn’t about to ask those.
Beth tapped her fingers against the scratchy cotton sheet. “So,” she began lamely. “How have you been?” She whispered so as not to be heard through the thin walls. She could tell by the coarse laughter that Flores and his partners in crime were still in the other room. She remembered she needed to ask Torres the names of his associates, though she doubted they would get her any closer to El Escorpion, and the elusive leader was all she cared about. Everything else was detail, and Beth didn’t do details unless they served her.
Torres opened his eyes but did not look at her. “How have I been?” He shook his dark head. “I thought you wanted credible deniability.”
“Yes – I mean no – I mean how are you other than anything that pertains to criminality?” The question sounded stupid even to her. Apparently she had forgotten how to make small talk.
“Other than being the head of a Sicario and being personally responsible for bringing 100 kilos a month of cocaine and marijuana into Laredo every month, I’m great. How are you, Beth?” Torres turned and looked at her, pinning her in place with his dark eyes.
A bolt of ice ran the length of her spine. There was a caustic sadness in his deep voice, it was tinged with a deep regret. She never really stopped to think how Torres was handling things his end; her focus was always on dismantling Los Treintas. Everything beyond that was filed with the other minutiae of her life, somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind. Beth liked to think of her work in abstract nebulous terms, because the reality of it was quite ugly. Sometimes what they had to do was amoral and illegal but it was also necessary, it served a greater good.
But sometimes she remembered that the names in reports were people. Those were the moments she hated her job, but they were also the moments that reminded her why someone needed to do it.
Torres did not have the luxury of distancing himself; he was part of a Sicario, a hit-man squad. She would never ask for details because she did not need to know and selfishly she did not want to know, those were details that she didn’t let exist.
“You know I…I mean all of us appreciate your sacrifices. We couldn’t do it without you.” It wasn’t a platitude; it was the truth. If she never had contact with Torres again after tonight, which is what she suspected, he still would have been one of the best assets the Administration had ever had. They now knew the exact route drugs were entering the US in Texas and California and they had identified six border patrol agents on the Zetas’ payroll. Once Torres was out of the field they could act on the information and in the long run the country would be safer because of his service. “You have done Archila proud.”
Torres sat up. “Don’t. I’m already whoring myself for the cause. Don’t make it worse. It must be so nice for you, not needing to bother yourself with details.” He ran a hand over his smooth head. She could tell there was more he wanted to say but something stopped him. A stab of guilt pierced her gut. Not for the first time she felt the twinge of a conscience asking if she was taking advantage of him. It would be incredible for anyone to think that of the powerful man in front of her, but she had read his file. She knew every gruesome detail that led him to this point, and she had used it all against him, manipulated him into joining the DEA. She appealed to his honour and his need for revenge. She had been calculating and mercenary, and she would do it again in a minute but it still didn’t make it any less of a dick move.
“I’m sorry,” Beth whispered.
Torres was quiet for a long time. “Me too.” His voice was so low she would have not known what he had said had she not been looking at him.
He glanced down at his watch and sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before he said, “Time to make it convincing. Show me your acting skills, Gatita.”
Beth raised a brow in question.
“We’re having sex not studying in a library. Make some noise, Beth.”
Beth shook her head.
Torres smiled and then rocked the bed back and forth in a slow cadence, the headboard hitting the wall at a steady pace. “Now,” he said in a tone that warned her not to argue with him. She doubted anyone argued with him…about anything…but no, she was not going to make any noises. “No,” she mouthed.
“Now. I have to deal with these people. Just do it,” he said and she knew this was an argument she would not win. She reminded herself she didn’t care what Torres thought of her.
Beth took a deep breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She closed her eyes and let out a small moan, it was a pathetic sound, something like a cat meowing.
She opened her eyes to find Torres staring at her with a combination of amusement and disbelief. “What was that?” he mouthed.
A rush of hot blood crept up her neck. “You said to make noise. I made a noise.” She tried to ignore the embarrassment that was stretching its fingers around her neck.