Torched: A Thriller Read Free Page A

eat. “It smells
wonderful.”
    The tacos were
filled with a mixture of chorizo, peppers, onions and mushrooms; Miguel had
drizzled crema fresca over them. The beans and rice were covered with crumbled
white cheese, coarse ground pepper and chopped cilantro. Felipe pulled three
pints of Victoria and they sat at the bar and ate mostly in silence, drenching
the tacos with fresh lime juice. Vivian finished first, draining her glass of
beer with a dainty burp.
    “That was amazing ,”
she said. “My God, it’s been a long time since I had a meal like that.”
    Miguel winked at
her. “Not bad for a New Yaaawka, eh?”
    She laughed, and
Felipe refilled Miguel’s glass before disappearing into the kitchen with their
empty dishes.
    “You got a place
to stay?” he asked her, after they had made small talk for a few minutes.
    Vivian frowned.
She shook her head. “Can you recommend a place? Somewhere safe?”
    “You can stay
with me,” he had replied.
    Vivian grinned
as she stabbed at the earth with her shovel, remembering his sheepish
expression. “Look, I’m not a weirdo,” he insisted. “I don’t want to creep you
out, or anything. I’m just…just trying to help out another American is all.
    “The couch is
comfortable, and I promise that I’ll be a gentleman. Cerritos is a pretty nice
place, but you might want to break into town slowly.” He leaned forward and
lowered his voice. “Especially if you have resources. Mexico can be dangerous
for people with means, and probably more so for women.”
    She nodded. “I
appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept it. Thank you for the food, Mr. …?”
    He offered her
his hand. “Miguel. And you are?”
    Vivian grinned.
“That’s it? Just ‘Miguel’?”
    “For now. C’mon,
it’s your turn.”
    “Vivian,” she
replied. Why she told him the truth that night was beyond her, but she’d
trusted him almost from the start. It wasn’t until they were sleeping together,
about two weeks later, that she’d furnished her surname as well.
    He could have
learned everything about her in a ten-second search if he’d gone to one of the
internet cafes.
    But he hadn’t.
At least as far as she could tell, he hadn’t looked into her past.
    He was waiting
for her to tell him herself, to volunteer the information, and she respected
him for letting her cling to her privacy.
    It was sweet,
just like the man himself.
    Vivian worked
hard all morning, expanding the plot of soil they hoped would support a little
citrus grove until she was covered with a sheen of sweat. Miguel had already
gone into Cerritos to prep for dinner and, when she paused for a lunch of cold
iced tea and a salad of strawberries, mangoes, blood oranges and kiwi fruit,
she ate at the window of the little home they now shared.
    She stared out
at the jungle. Birds flitted from bough to bough; iguanas scampered nimbly
among the branches.
    She touched the
tea to her forehead, ice cubes clicking together in the still, hot day, and
sighed with happiness.
    This was it .
    This was it—of
that she felt sure—and after all of the sadness and sorrow and the terrible thing
that had happened to Katie, she felt something like contentment for the first
time since her daughter’s accident.
    “Smooth sailing
from here, Vivian,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing but smooth sailing from
here on out.”
    She went back
outside and worked in the field until her muscles ached and her fingers tingled
inside the leather gloves. The sun was far out over the Pacific when she
knocked off for the day, and she grabbed a cold shower and biked the six miles
into Cerritos to have dinner at El Principe.
    She felt
good—clean and refreshed after her shower—and she smiled in the cooling evening
air as she thought about the man that waited for her in town.
    “Smooth
sailing,” she whispered.

FIVE
    Terri rose with
the sun, feeling refreshed after her night beneath the stars. The morning was
cool, her sleeping back damp with dew.
    She