He stared at the railcars in the distance. He didn’t like the feelings he was having. He didn’t like feelings, period. She was right about him being angry. He was tired, and angry, and frustrated. Any man would be after what they’d been through. “Maybe Idowant to argue.”
“Why?”
“The same reasons I gave at the cargo station.”
Her lips parted with understanding. Then color rose to her cheeks and she looked away. “If that’s how we argue, I would like to argue also.”
He groaned at this answer, trying to suppress a deluge of erotic memories. Making out with her, showering with her, listening to that sexy accent…it was all too much. He couldn’t take it anymore. The heat and humidity added another layer of pressure, like a steamy blanket on his shoulders. If he didn’t get some release, he was going to explode.
“I need to make a phone call,” he said, wiping his face.
“You need to rest.”
He inclined his head and studied their surroundings. They were in a valley, which wasn’t great from a security standpoint. There was a tree at the top of the nearby hillside that looked promising. It offered a panoramic view, some shade, and maybe a hint of breeze. “We can go up there.”
She followed his gaze, nodding. “I’ll buy some bottled water.”
He stood in line for the phone while she went inside the store. There were only three men in front of him, so it went quick. His gut clenched with trepidation as he waited for the call to go through. LaGuardia’s secretary connected him almost immediately.
“Why are you calling on an unsecured line?” he asked.
“I don’t have my phone. I got robbed.”
“By who?”
Ian told the story in as few words as possible, with no inflection. This part of the job had always come easily to him. Just the facts, ma’am. He didn’t mention Maria.
“You sure he’s dead?” LaGuardia asked.
“I’m assuming. I didn’t check his pulse.”
“Why didn’t you use your Sig?”
Ian transferred the phone to his other ear, agitated. “Because there were dozens of innocent bystanders in the vicinity, and I wasn’t on steady ground. I didn’t have a clean shot.”
“Keep your pants on, Foster,” LaGuardia said. “I had to ask. For the record, I think you made a smart decision. I could use more guys like you on my team, in fact. Last week I had to write up an agent for shooting himself in the leg. While he was on his fucking lunch break. Can you believe that?”
Ian didn’t answer. He could believe it, because he’d worked with some real dipshits.
“Listen, I have a meeting in two minutes, but I wanted to tell you a couple of things. First, don’t worry about your phone. None of your information is accessible. We can wipe it from here, and I’ll have Pam send you a new one as soon as possible. Second, we got your pictures.”
“You did?”
“They were automatically uploaded. IT went through the images and we found a match. Sarai Tomás is on that train.”
Ian switched ears again. This was unexpected news. “Which railcar?”
“Railcar nine, I believe they said. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, but her face was visible. You haven’t seen her?”
“No.”
“What’s your status?”
He shifted his weight off his injured leg. “I haven’t slept, but I’m okay.”
“No dizziness?”
“Just fatigue.”
