#

 

"Stay close to me," Robert mumbles over his shoulder. He takes your hand and you walk through the milling crowd.  A Mariachi band plays an unknown song that makes you smile, and you see couples dancing together with smiles on their faces.

 

"A pretty prize for the senorita?"  You turn, and in front of you there's an older man holding his arm out towards a multi-colored booth laden with stuffed animals. "Win a prize for your love, senor."

 

Robert stops and if you weren't undercover with him you would've laughed at the look of pure terror on his face when he faced the man. "I'm not a game player and—"

 

"Vayamos, it'll be worth it to see her smile, right?"

 

He gives you a questioning glance and mumbles under his breath. "We don't have time for this, Doren."  You step over to him, and you scan the crowd hoping that somehow Lauren and Sark are out amongst the people of the city.  As if someone heard your prayer, you see a flash of blonde and then another sitting at a table in a street side restaurant. Shit.

 

You feel his body stiffen as you wrap your arms around his neck.  You try to ignore the scent of citrus when you whisper in his ear. "They're here.  Just like you told me, Santos, and just like I'm telling you, 'It's important that we make this work.' Now, win me a prize while I watch them."

 

"Just make sure they don't see you, Doren." He whispers back to you and then he looks back at the old man. "What type of game are we playing?"

 

You wait until Robert is involved in the game before you turn to face the area where you just saw Lauren and Sark.  Suddenly, you see him stand up from the table. Sark. That pang you've been ignoring since waking up in Greece and had been ignoring for two months comes back with such force that you almost stumble.  You watch him walk away from the table, that confident gait evident with every step. You remember the first time you saw him, and you frown as you remember that it was his walk that made you want to know more about him.

 

You turn your attention from your former lover, and you focus on the woman that he has quickly replaced you with.  "It would be quick," you mumble as you make your way towards her. You reach into the straw bag that Robert gave you and find the switchblade that you packed.  As you advance on the table, you slowly take the knife out of the bag.  You smirk as you think of drawing the knife across her neck so quick that whatever bodyguards she may have will be too slow to react.

 

Just two more feet. Just two more…

 

"If you are going to kill someone, do it on your own time," a male voice says next to you and all of a sudden you stop as if you've hit a brick wall.  You glance up and Robert is looking down at you—his brown eyes a mixture of anger and understanding.

 

"What the hell—"

 

"Saving your ass, Doren," he whispers to you urgently.  He narrows his eyes at you and opens his mouth as if he's going to say something when you both hear a gun click behind him.

 

"What's going on here?"

 

Robert narrows his eyes even more as he turns to face the man "There's no problem, hombre. She's just being silly. She means no harm."  You place the knife into your bag and look around Robert's shoulder.  You say a silent thank you for the fact that he made you wear his hat and that you kept your sunglasses on because Sark is looking directly at you, and you know that it'll be a matter of seconds before he recognizes you.

 

"I didn't mean any harm at all," you say with a smile on your face. "Just wanted to give my honey a little scare. That's all."

 

Robert looks down at you at the mention of a 'little scare'. You can just imagine the words you'll hear when you get back to the 'honeymoon' suite.

 

"Come on, let's get out of here, sweetie," you continue stepping in front of him and gently kissing him on his lower lip. "I'll make it worth your while."

 

"So, you're saying I'll get my chocolate sundae, then?"

 

He winks as you narrow your eyes at him. 

 

"And you know that my sweet tooth can't pass that up, Maria. I just hope we can find the right ingredients in this town somewhere." With that, he traces his finger down you nose and stops at your lips.  Your body responds to the action with a low sigh and you are pissed at your body for doing it.

 

"Go on, get out of here."

 

Robert wraps his arm around your shoulders and turns you away.  You resist the urge to look over your shoulder at Sark whose eyes you can still feel on you.

 

"She looks real sweet, hombre," the guard says loudly and chuckles with a gravely voice.

 

You stiffen in Robert's embrace, and he looks at you from the corner of his eye. "Keep moving, Doren. Just keep moving."

 

You push through the crowd and the tension between you two is thicker than it had been when you crossed the border several hours earlier.  You notice that he looks over his shoulder, and then straight ahead. He moves his arm from your shoulders to your hand and pulls you into an alley.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

With a slight shove, he pushes you against the wall, and leans in to your neck. "We're being followed," he whispers and his deep voice inherently sends chills up your spine. "What the hell were you thinking, Doren?"  He breathes against your neck again and you shudder underneath him.

 

You know that out of the two of you, there's a better chance you'll be recognized. And although he's a big guy, you're the one who's revealed as his mouth softly caresses just under your ear. You twine your fingers through his hair and pull him up to face you.

 

"I'll ask again, 'What are you doing?'"

 

"Making this very believable," he answers as he leans in to kiss you.  The moment your lips touch, the reaction that you've been trying to ignore comes in full force. You shiver when he wraps his arms around your waist and brings you close to his body.  The weight of his body pushes you against the wall, and you almost forget what exactly you're doing in Mexico.

 

He breaks the kiss and steps back from you. "They're gone. Now, what the fuck were you thinking? Going after her like that?  I told you that I wasn't able to identify all the bodyguards yet."

 

You look back at him and blink several times to clear the stars from your eyes. You can't remember the last time you've been kissed like that. Mission or otherwise. "I—I just saw my opportunity and took it."

 

"Your opportunity almost got you killed, Doren.  I don't have time to teach you the basics of surveillance. Murphy told me that you were in his words "fucking good", and I have yet to see evidence of that."

 

That bliss you felt just a moment ago has turned into anger. "If the one person you thought you could count on turned their back on you—I don't think you'd act so superior. She'd be dead right now and we'd be on our way back to Texas."

 

"Maybe not, but I'd know to think things out before acting impulsively. The Allison Doren I read about doesn't do that."

 

“Well, maybe that Allison Doren is dead.” The words leave your mouth and you realize it’s partly true. You’ve been thinking with your slighted heart all day, letting it guide your reactions.

 

Lacking confidence in your skills for the first time in God knows how long burns. It hurts deep, and reminds you of your younger years and your training in the Project Christmas program and beyond.

 

Tears burn your eyes, but you’re strong enough to keep them from completely forming. So before you display too much to this man who hardly knows you, but feels the need to berate your every move, you turn and walk away.

 

#

 

Hours pass before you feel like going back to the room, back to face Robert. You don’t know this area at all, but you managed to find solitude while not attracting attention to yourself. The sky grew darker in your absence, if that was even possible, the trickle of stars glimmering like tiny specks of diamonds in the distance. Complete sundown brought some relief from the sweltering heat, but the hours you walked show on your body in dirt and sweat.

 

You want to shower. Your stomach grumbles in protest to that, demanding your immediate attention. And to top it all off, your feet are killing you.

 

You place no blame on anyone but yourself. Your stupidity, your brash reaction, your heart that you’d thought had been shattered back in Laredo. All three nearly got you killed. Again.

 

Would you be lucky this time around?

 

“Probably not,” you murmur.

 

From the outside, the room appears unoccupied – curtains drawn, lights off, outdoor light on, waiting for your arrival. You know that looks can be deceiving when it comes to your safety, but you also have a feeling that Robert would have found you by now if something was wrong.

 

Opening the door, you hesitantly step inside, immediately finding the light switch. A faint yellow light illuminates the room and everything is just how you left it.

 

Almost everything.

 

You step over to the bed and try not to smile. It feels strange, this feeling that seems to warm you when the last thing you should be is warm. You reach the bed and drop to one knee on the mattress, leaning over to grab the object that caught your attention.

 

It’s cheaply made, the stitching crooked and so spacious that a hint of fluffy stuffing seeps through, but the gesture makes it endearing.

 

“I – uh, hope you like bears,” you hear a deep voice say unsurely behind you.  "I won it in that game."

 

A smile forms on your face, and it’s genuine. In a matter of minutes, this man has made you feel better than you have in weeks, maybe even months. You try not to appear too moved, for whose sake you don’t know, but you turn and face him as he looms just inside the door.

 

“I do.”

 

He runs an awkward hand through his hair and averts his eyes, his normal cool composure gone. “I wanted to a – ”

 

“No,” you interrupt his apology. “No apology necessary. You were right. I fucked up, but I swear I’m clear on that now, and will do everything in my power to see this thing through with no more incidents.”

 

He’s standing with his fingers in his hair, elbow pointed to the ceiling, and after a moment’s silence, he looks at you holding the blue bear. You don’t know how it happens, but suddenly you’ve stepped up to him and are leaning in to gently kiss the corner of his mouth.

 

His body goes rigid at the light touch and he sucks in a breath. You pull back, but only to look him in the eye.

 

“Thank you,” you say and turn to walk to the bathroom.

 

#

 

When you exit the bathroom, he’s gone. You wonder, not for the first time, how it came to be that he showed up minutes after you arrived. It was almost like he knew you’d just returned.

 

He is a master of surveillance, a pro at watching those who don’t want to be watched, but you find yourself surprised he’s that undetectable.

 

Did he follow you from the get go? you wonder. Was it when you passed the last tavern and headed out into the empty desert flatland? Did he start to follow you when you were on your way back? Or had he been sitting across the street, biding his time.

 

You shake out your damp hair, swiftly running the towel through it, contemplating that for a minute.

 

“You have a lot to learn, sister,” you tell yourself, noting his expertise.

 

A bag of chips lay on the table, a bowl of salsa nearby. You remember that you haven't eaten, so you snack. The day has ended, and you made it. Successfully, you faced the demons in your life head on and in the end, with a little help, kept your cool.

 

It’s no surprise that in no less than thirty minutes later you’re drifting to sleep. Your walk, along with your recovery, has sapped your remaining energy. You reach for the lamp near the bed and extinguish it before you’re out.

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you feel the bed dip next to you. The weight of him slides in behind you, at a respectable distance, of course. That’s that good-ole’-boy Texas charm. His body heat emanates under the sheet, and if it’s not that, there’s another kind of warmth brewing in your body.

 

That would be just like you. Mistake a kind gesture for more than it was because you feel a bit down in the dumps. After all, how many people have done something for you without expecting compensation? Besides your parents, you can count them on one hand.

 

Yet, you can’t deny the attraction you feel for him. It’s physical. Mostly. When he’d planted that kiss on you at the festival, you felt it surge down to your toes.

 

He sighs deeply, and you realize, as a warm rush of air hits you, that he’s facing your back. For some reason that unnerves, yet excites you. You try to keep your breathing nice and deep and slow, hoping not to betray the fact that you’re awake.

 

It must work, for he doesn’t speak. You sit in silence, your breathing and his are the only sounds in the small room. There’s no movement either until you feel a slight twitch on your scalp.

 

Your heart starts to pound excitedly in your chest when you feel the light tug again and you realize he’s touching the ends of your hair. You’d have never known it if you’d been awake, he’s that careful, but you are, and having problems keeping your consciousness a secret.

 

His hand stills suddenly and you realize that your abrupt change in breathing gave you away. You can’t feel it, but by the time you roll over to face him, his hand is gone. The darkness makes it hard for you to see, so you scoot a bit closer.

 

“Everything go okay?” you ask sleepily.

 

He clears his throat before saying, “Yeah.”

 

“So we’re all set up for the afternoon meeting. Nothing to do in the morning?”

 

He laughs uneasily, and you assume that he's nervous but you wonder if it's due to its foreign feel. “Yeah. Why, you wanting to sleep the morning away?”

 

You shift your body a little closer and your leg brushes his. Your eyes have adjusted, allowing you to see a faint silhouette with only the barest of feature detail. His eyes are wide as they look at you, curious, maybe even a bit apprehensive. You do your best to make him feel more at ease.

 

“Possibly. But I’ve also been having a problem getting to sleep.”

 

There’s a beat of silence between you. You hear your heart pounding wildly in your chest and wonder if the same can be said about him.

 

Timidly, you reach up and touch your fingers to his cheek. He doesn’t move. You can’t even tell if he’s breathing. But his eyes are trained on you.

 

You lean in closer and he nervously licks his bottom lip. Your eyes flicker to the slight movement and you’re finally convinced that you want this because it’s him, unsure Robert, not because you’re rebounding from a stint in hell.

 

Your fingers dig into his hair and you pull him to meet you halfway. The first touch of lips is soft, slow, probably even chaste. It’s over too soon, so you make this next one deeper, but equally as languid.

 

His tongue ventures into your mouth when you open it. He softly caresses the inside of your mouth, drawing your tongue back into his once he’s finished. You don’t know who does it, but you’re closer now. Bodies nearly touching, your leg casually thrown over his.

 

That heat you felt when he first joined you in the bed, suffuses your body, burning hot and making your skin feel tight. Moisture pools heavily between your legs and you almost feel the need to cross them, take some of that pressure away.

 

But all too soon, that combustible sensation is gone.

 

“Allison,” Robert whispers as he pulls back from you. “We can’t.”

 

You rest your forehead against his, trying damn hard to get your body to cool, to loosen. He’s right. But, on that same note, he’s so wrong.

 

You can do this. You want nothing more than to do this.

 

As much as you want to object, you don’t voice your thoughts. He places a final kiss on the corner of your mouth, similar to the affection you offered him earlier. A small part of you feels the rejection he worked so hard not to make you feel. But a larger part feels a door opening, a life you never thought you would live, coming into play.

 

Sark had been a part of your world for so long that he’d become your next to everything. Now that he’s gone?

 

“Sleep,” Robert says. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

 

You nod and roll back over onto your side. Your body feels an odd mix of exhilaration, relief, fear, and arousal. Robert is still facing you and a part of you hopes to wake up with his hand in your hair.

 

 It doesn’t seem possible at the time, but close to thirty minutes later, you’re asleep again.

 

#

 

 

Morning comes all too soon, the bright sun filtering in through the crack in the drawn curtains. Your eyes open slowly, finding it hard to immediately adjust to the contrast of closed lids and heavy slumber. It only takes you seconds to realize that you’re alone.

 

Your body is sore, the toll of the beating you gave yourself yesterday making itself known in acid-gripped muscles and achy joints. Throwing back the sheet, you stretch, taking notice of a Styrofoam cup and a fresh Bunuelo sitting on the small table.

 

Breakfast first and then a shower, you decide.

 

By the time you’re ready, the clock reads 10:40 – just over an hour until you need to leave for the meeting. You start to wonder where Robert is, but the minute you do so, you hear the door open behind you.

 

“Morning,” he says.

 

You face him, only minutely embarrassed about what happened last night. But he doesn't help.  He's the picture of control-no expression, no nervous gestures. It’s as if he’s decided that he hadn’t reached for your hair and strung it through his fingers. Or that you hadn’t initiated a kiss that was so hot, it nearly burned out of control.

 

“We ready then?” you ask, more clipped than you had planned.

 

He nods and you grab your straw tote bag and head towards the door.