Body Heat. Brenda Novak

how that would go down with the local police or the Mexican government. They might not believe she’d acted in self-defense, and the fact that she’d brought a weapon into the country wouldn’t be a point in her favor.

      Waving the waitress away when the girl circled back to see if she wanted another ginger ale, Sophia toyed with the change on the table. Why hadn’t she asked Starkey to come down here with her? He would’ve loved the chance to play protector. He enjoyed nothing more than acting tough. He was tough. But she knew better than to accept any favors from him. That would only get his hopes up that she’d take him back, and she didn’t need that right now, not after years of trying to convince him that they were over for good.

      Still, giving him a call would help pass the time and take her mind off the two thugs at the door, one of whom had basically threatened her with rape. The way she’d spouted off about the money she’d be willing to pay for information made robbery another possibility….

      She checked her watch again. The minute hand was creeping toward 12:25 a.m., but there was no need to worry that she might wake Starkey. She’d never known him to go to bed before two or three. He partied with the other Angels almost every night.

      Pulling her cell from her pocket, she hit the key for Starkey’s number. She expected it to go through its usual speed-dial sequence, but she got an error message instead, warning her that she was out of network range. Because she was within twenty miles of the town where she lived, she hadn’t realized her phone wouldn’t work. But, of course, that made sense. She wasn’t in the States, anymore.

      “Oh, boy,” she muttered, and put the phone away.

      Ten more minutes passed before she stood. She’d promised herself she’d stay fifteen, but another four people had sauntered toward the exit, making her worry that she’d delayed her departure too long already. Bracing for what could happen when she passed that front table, she started to leave. But as she took a step toward the door, the man she’d been waiting for came charging into the cantina, along with two lanky companions. At least twenty years younger than their sturdier counterpart, they looked like identical twins—until they came close enough for Sophia to see that they were only siblings. “Señorita, I have what you want,” the man she’d hired stated proudly.

      This was promising—if it was real and not something he’d concocted in an effort to get paid.

      As she sank into her seat, she gestured for the men to join her.

      They were short a chair, but borrowed one from an empty table.

      “Juan can help you.” Indicating the guy to his left, the man who’d accepted her offer tapped the pictures. “He and his brother, they act as polleros…er—” deep groves lined his forehead as he struggled with English “—guides? Sí, guides, for these people. They take them across la frontera.”

      “They’re coyotes?”

      “No. They work for a coyote who can no longer cross.”

      “Why can’t he cross?”

      “He get caught by La Migra? The CBP? He go to jail. You understand?”

      “He’s on the list. If he gets caught trying to cross again, they’ll prosecute him.”

      He nodded emphatically. “Sí. These are his runners.”

      She pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen she’d shoved into her back pocket. “And who are you?”

      “Enrique.”

      “Enrique what?”

      “Castillo.”

      She wrote that down. “And your friends?”

      “Juan and Miguel Martinez.”

      As soon as she’d recorded this, she eyed Enrique’s friends. “Can you tell me who these people are?”

      They looked confused until Enrique jumped in. “Juan y Miguel no hablan inglés, señorita. I translate. But first, we talk price. One hundred U.S.” He tapped Juan’s shoulder, then Miguel’s and then his own chest to make sure she understood that they each expected one hundred American dollars.

      Sitting back, she folded her arms. “That’s more than I offered.”

      A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We have to live, to eat. And we have to pay the police, no?”

      Juan and Miguel seemed to understand that Enrique was arguing for higher pay. They made noises of agreement.

      She arched her eyebrows. “You expect me to cover your bribes?”

      “They have to be paid or we no work.”

      Some coyotes made several thousand dollars a week even after they shelled out the standard ten percent to the Mexican military and police. Many camped along the border, sometimes for days at a time, tracking border agent activity, searching for any vulnerability. Among other things, the bribes helped insure that the Mexican police wouldn’t interfere with their reconnaissance. But if Enrique went to the extra effort of scouting the guards, Sophia had a feeling he wasn’t too successful. “There are no snitches here to tell anyone about our deal,” she pointed out. “Why get greedy?”

      His pitiable expression changed to grave. “They will find out. Soplónes…snitches…they are everywhere.”

      An additional hundred wasn’t enough to argue about, not when it was getting so late. Sophia calculated the amount of money she had in her pocket. “I have two hundred and fifty-three dollars. That’s all. Take it or leave it. And I’ll pay you only after you’ve given me what I want.” If they could give her what she wanted. She had no delusions; these men would cheat her if they could.

      They conferred and quickly agreed, as she’d expected them to. Everything in Mexico was negotiable. “Gracias, señorita.”

      “What can you tell me?” she asked.

      “Nombres.” Enrique nudged Juan, who pointed at the two pictures.

      “José y Benita.”

      Sophia’s heart began to race. She hadn’t mentioned that she knew the man’s first name. Enrique wasn’t trying to con her. He’d found the people she needed to talk to.

      “Can you give me a last name?”

      Her words made no sense to Juan, but Enrique explained.

      “Sanchez” came the response.

      “José and Benita Sanchez,” she repeated. “He’s sure?”

      “Sí.” All three men nodded in agreement and apparent satisfaction.

      “Does he also remember where they’re from?”

      Again, Enrique addressed his companions before responding. “Nayarit.”

      Sophia didn’t recognize the location. Despite growing up so close to the border, she’d spent very little time in Mexico and hadn’t studied it except as it related to basic American history. “That’s a city?”

      “A state.”

      “Where? Is it far?”

      “Sí,” Enrique answered soberly. “It is south, near the ocean.”

      The two men at the front table leaned toward each other, talking. They paused every now and then, their eyes shooting imaginary daggers at Sophia. They weren’t happy that she’d found the help she needed. But she ignored them. She’d decide what to do about them later. “How did they get here from so far away?”

      “Probably by bus.” He checked with Juan, who agreed. Bus was easy to understand in either language.

      Juan’s brother spoke up, and Enrique listened to what he had to say before passing it on. “Miguel, he go to meet them when they arrive.”

      “When was that? How long ago?”

      There