Blurring the Line Read Free

Administration was hunting for the head of Los Treintas and so far there were more verified sighting of the Loch Ness Monster than their elusive leader. “Eye witness” reports had him ranging in height between five feet and six foot six. Some people said he had straight black hair, others reported curly brown. Some said he was covered in tattoos, other people reported a single scorpion tattooed between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. One report said he was a married father of eight, though she took that one with a pinch of salt because it came from a prison informant desperate to cut a deal. It was like chasing a ghost, and the fact that no one could say for certain what he looked like, let alone knew his real name, only complicated things further. What the DEA knew about the man called El Escorpion fitted comfortably on a single page of paper: he was the leader of one of the most dangerous and heavily armed narco-terrorist groups to come out of Latin America. All details beyond that were speculation.
    “Last I heard he was in Sinaloa.”
    Beth nodded. She had heard the same thing, but again it had come from a prison informant, and it needed verifying. Not that knowing El Escorpion was or may be in Sinaloa narrowed it down enough to be of any use. Sinaloa was a large state. She could not exactly fly down to Mexico and start knocking on doors.
    A sudden thought crossed her mind. Her pulse picked up again. “We need him alive,” Beth blurted out. “We both know he ordered the hit on Archila but you can’t kill him. Do you understand?” She had worked too long and too hard to not get El Escorpion. She could not deny that Torres would get a pass on almost anything he did undercover. There was no doubt in her mind that if Torres found Archila’s killer before she did, the man would be dead. And the case would be forgotten before the body was cold. She would make sure of it. But she needed El Escorpion alive.
    Torres’ eyes narrowed, staring through her. There was no emotion on his face save for the simmering cold anger that he always wore.
    “Tell me that you know that. Tell me if you find him, you’ll bring him in safe.”
    His lip curled again into a facsimile of a smile. “You assume I’ll kill him. But you also assume I’ll tell you the truth about it.” She had forgotten how deep his voice was, like the slow plucked strings of a bass. Had there ever been any warmth in his tone, it would not have been a stretch to call it melodic. His eyes were dark now, the irises consuming any illusion of colour. She had never met anyone else whose physical presence made the hairs on the back of hair stand taut, and that was saying a lot. Beth was often in the company of felons. She could walk into any prison in Texas and not feel as unsettled as she did when she was with Torres.
    “That’s not an answer. I know this is all about avenging Archila but you need to see the big picture. This isn’t just a squabble between warring cartels. This is national security. El Escorpion is wanted for arms dealing. You get that, right? He is supplying terrorists. If we don’t get him there will be thousands of other Archilas.” She tried to appeal to him in a language he understood; as an ex-Marine, Torres knew better than most the exact price of the war on terror.
    She had been so proud of herself when she recruited Torres, and not just because he was such a valuable asset: she was proud of herself for facing him.
    Torres shrugged his shoulders. “Well you’d better catch him.” He left the words “before I do” unsaid, but they were there, hanging between then, palpable.
    Beth shook her head. She would find him. She quickly changed the subject. “How are you for money?”
    “Good. I—”
    Beth cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t tell me. I just need to know you have enough. I don’t need to be an accessory after the fact.” The Administration had not given Torres money in months. They both knew that any