Crossing The Line: A gripping romantic thriller. Kierney Scott

tight fists. She didn’t let Martinez go. She could not have stopped him and that baby she kidnapped was now her daughter. It was like Jessop was intentionally trying to piss her off. Or maybe she was always pissed lately and he was just aggravating an already raw wound. She might as well give him some acid, so he could pour it directly into all her cuts. “Martinez was a strong lead but that is played out. We lost that one but it’s time to suck it up. Zayat is the way forward.” She wasn’t going to get sucked any further into a conversation about Martinez. The son of a bitch was dead, that was a win for them in its own right. Martinez was the bastard who shot Torres and killed Archila. The world was not mourning his loss.

      Jessop took a long sip of coffee. He had a colourful collection of mugs covered with handprints and scribbles from grandchildren. They painted a picture of a devoted family man, which he may very well be, but he was also as cutthroat as any agent she had ever met.

      “I can’t tell you which country I need a warrant for because I don’t know where he is. That is why we need the wiretaps. We don’t have time. We need to act now.”

      “You have to do better than that, Beth.” Jessop put down his cup and leaned forward across the wide expanse of his desk. He gave a faint smile. His tone straddled the line between paternal and patronizing. Jessop was nearing retirement but he still looked as fit as any agent working. The only thing that betrayed his age was the streaks of silver in his thick black hair. “You’ve headed up this task force for six years. Despite what went down in Mexico, you’ve done a good job. Don’t screw things up now. I know what happened with your sister must have knocked your confidence. And no agent should see what you did last night. But don’t let it get to you. Don’t rush it. Keep your eye on the ball, Beth. I need you to stay focused.”

      Beth held up her hand. What the hell? What was more offensive, the fact that Jessop thought she was doing a shitty job or that he was treating her sister’s death like a something that could be fixed with a locker room pep talk? “This has nothing to do with Paige or what happened in Carrizo Springs.”

      “This has everything to do with her. Last night would have brought it home for you. This is about Paige.”

      The anger was rising. Her cheeks burned with it. “It really isn’t. My private life has nothing to do with this.” She could have choked on the words. There was no distinction between her work and private life. If there ever had been a line, it had been crossed so many times as to make it obsolete. She had obliterated it sometime between kidnapping the baby daughter of a murdered informant, and sleeping with the agent she recruited. And if that wasn’t enough, she had slept with her partner. If there were boundaries, she certainly didn’t respect them any more. This was her life, all of it.

      Jessop leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his thick thatch of salt and pepper hair. Now he really looked like a dad, he was every ounce the disappointed father figure. Not that Beth gave a shit. She was already disappointed in herself; she had more reasons than he knew to feel shitty so he could add all he wanted to that pile.

      “Beth. What you have gone through, it knocks a person. But you need to keep your head in the game. It’s easy to Monday morning quarterback but you can’t. You have to keep focused.”

      Enough with the damned sports analogies! Her sister was dead. Raul’s family were dead. Tom and Mike and countless others, all dead. This wasn’t a Super Bowl game; this was people’s lives cut short because they had the misfortune of crossing paths with Los Treintas. Paige was dead because Beth had let her get dragged into it. She could not ignore that fact. Her sister was dead because of her. Alejandra had lost her biological parents. Patterson had lost his job and Torres had lost four years of his life to the Colombian jungle. And she was in various degrees responsible for all of it. If this was a game it was a sick one, but Beth had her head well and fully in it. “I need the warrants,” Beth said between clenched teeth. If she said any more she would scream.

      “Let’s say I tell you to go ahead. Get five governments involved, really muddy the water. What then? I’ll tell you. You will get turned down by every single authority. You will have wasted time and you will quite possibly have tipped Zayat off. All because you’re trigger-happy. Slow down, Beth. Work smart not hard.”

      Was that another sports analogy? Was there some management course at the good old boys’ club where he learned this crap? “You’re not hearing me. This isn’t a matter of working smart or hard. This is our only lead.” She slammed her fist against the solid oak desk. “We have been chasing Los Treintas for over six years. This is it. This is what we have been working for.”

      “That’s right, Beth. Six years. Don’t screw it up now. Take your time. Do it right.”

      “I don’t have time,” she blurted before she could consider her words.

      Jessop’s eyes narrowed. His hawklike stare scrutinized her. “Why? What’s changed? You say what happened with you sister hasn’t affected you. But it has, of course it has. How couldn’t it affect you? I’m not holding that against you. There is no hurry, Beth. Do it right.”

      Beth bit into her lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. There was a hurry, she just had no intention of telling Jessop anything about it. “What does that even mean, do it right? You mean follow rules. Like Martinez followed the rules. And Zayat is following the rules. And what about El Escorpion when he ordered a hit on my sister? Where were the rules then?” She shook her head.

      Jessop stood up and walked around the desk, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. “You have taken a blow. You lost your sister. Your partner is gone. Slow down. Take some time off; even just a few days to regroup. You only took a day and that was for the funeral. That isn’t enough. Take a few days. I know you’re a tough cookie, you’ve proven that over and over. Now take a few days. Go be a mom. Get a massage. I don’t know…buy some new shoes. Do what people do when they’re upset. Let yourself be upset.”