Page 25 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

Dina tore her gaze away from Steve and turned to face her daughter. All the anger and frustration she’d been feeling toward her child had long-since faded. Seeing her there, hugging her middle, in her princess pink pajama set, Dina was remind of just how young Camila truly was. She might think she had the world figured out, but she was only fourteen years old.

And scared.

“Is that blood?” Camila pointed a shaking finger at Steve. “Are you...? Did someone get hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Steve assured her. “And so is your uncle.”

“Tio Beto?” Camila asked, eyes wide in panic. “What happened?”

“Some bad men shot at us and tried to run us off the road,” Steve answered honestly. “We’re fine—but they aren’t.”

Terrified, Camila asked, “Ama, are we safe?”

“Yes.” Dina rushed to her daughter’s side and drew her in close. She relished the scent of fruity shampoo and the baby soft feel of Camila’s dark hair under her hand as she smoothed the loose waves. “We’re safe here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

But as she glanced at Steve while gently rocking and hugging her daughter, Dina couldn’t help but wonder if she had just made a promise she couldn’t keep.

Chapter Eight

“More coffee?” Jovita hovered over Steve’s shoulder early the next morning in the smaller dining room.

He offered a roguish grin to the kindly older woman. “Only if it’s as sweet as you.”

“Ay!” Jovita clicked her teeth and playfully swatted at him with the tea towel in her hand. Across the table, Camila rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. Jovita shushed the surly teen and filled Steve’s cup with the steaming hot coffee. She gave him a maternal pat on the back before moving toward the head of the table where Soila was losing her battle feeding Jasper.

There were more scrambled eggs on the floor and in the little boy’s hair than had reached his mouth. Jasper seemed more interested in the brightly colored pink pan dulce Beto had given him and gnawed on the fluffy bread while babbling incoherently. It wasn’t until Dina showed her nephew how to scoop up his eggs with a piece of tortilla that he decided he might want to give them a try.

Steve enjoyed the happy scene before him, but that happiness was overshadowed by fear. Last night had been a close call. Too close. He’d let his guard down. It was a mistake he wasn’t making again.

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his borrowed jeans, and he quickly excused himself from the table to take the call. As he left, he caught Dina’s curious gaze. They had only exchanged morning pleasantries since Camila’s interruption on the stairs last night. If anyone else could feel the tension, they weren’t mentioning it.

Looking for privacy, he exited out the first door he found and walked into a private courtyard with a fountain, tall topiary and flowers. The call had gone to voicemail, but he dialed the number and steeled himself for the ass chewing that was coming.

“What the hell are you doing down there, Morgan?” Bill Trejo, Company B’s Assistant Chief demanded. “I’ve got videos of you hauling a screaming teenage kid around like a sack of horse feed and now my phone is blowing up because you’ve killed someone!”

“Bill,” Steve tried to cut in as respectfully as possible, “I didn’t—.”

“You’ve got me tangled up in a goat rope here, Morgan!” Bill continued angrily. “I let you take this case because I know what it means to your family, to your mother especially. I know y’all have been waiting years to get answers about the murders of your grandparents. You were sent down there to question that kid, liaise with the DEA and then come back here to report your findings and pick up your current cases.”

“I know.” Steve couldn’t argue with any of that. “I know what I was sent down here to do.”

“Then why haven’t you come back? Why are you engaging in a high-speed chase and a shootout on a Mexican highway? Thisain’t the Wild West, Morgan! We’re not out chasing bandits on our horses anymore!”

“I know.”

“You know, huh? And, yet, there you are!”

“Here I am,” Steve agreed.

Bill exhaled roughly, and Steve could see his boss in his mind’s eye, pacing his office and squeezing the hell out of that battered stress ball that sat on his desktop. “You’re suspended, Steve. Pending an investigation.”

“Understood.” Steve had expected nothing less, not after that clusterfuck last night.

“You’re to stay there in Mexico, cooperate with the authorities and return home as soon as you’re cleared. You will keep me updated.”

“Understood, sir.” Steve had behaved foolishly, but he wasn’t a fool. He was keenly aware of how big a pile of shit he’d stepped in and how close he was to losing his job or worse.

When the call ended, he tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and closed his tired eyes for a moment. The burbling water soothed his raw nerves, and the scent of flowers and wet earth calmed his worries, if only for a moment.

---