Beautiful Sacrifice

they had talked after her classes—when he managed to show up—occasionally shared coffee, and circled each other with equal parts desire and wariness.
    Then two weeks ago Hunter had disappeared. He’d missed classes before, but not for so long a stretch. Maybe he’d tired of the subject matter. Or her.
    She shook her head and told herself that Hunter didn’t matter. She had a class to teach. She was down to the homestretch, racing toward the coffee and time off waiting at the finish line.

C HAPTER T WO
     
    Y OU THERE, MAN ? I NEED YOU.”
    Frowning, ignoring the fatigue that kept dragging at the edges of his vision, Hunter Johnston listened to the message. He had known Jase for a lifetime, yet he’d never heard quite that sound from his friend. He prayed it didn’t have anything to do with Jase’s wife or kids. Especially his children. Kids were so innocent, so fragile.
    The thought made Hunter open the apartment window with a vicious snap. It was the eighteenth of December, and Houston had to be seventy-five degrees already in the simmering morning. Summer simply hadn’t given up.
    Better than the Yucatan, he told himself. No one shooting at me.
    Hot air bathed him, bringing with it the smell of the city—gas, diesel, asphalt, concrete, dust, a whiff of stuffed Dumpster, and dueling Mexican and Chinese take-out joints. Hunter preferred the mixture of odors to his stale apartment and food that had been forgotten in his rush to get to Mexico in time to keep a young woman from being bought and sold like tamales on a dirty street corner.
    A world away from Dr. Lina Taylor’s safe, well-lighted classroom.
    Dream on, fool, Hunter told himself. I had to run out on our last sort-of coffee date. I’ll be lucky if she speaks to me.
    Business and apartment lights glimmered against the hazy sky. Across the city avenue, Jase’s apartment already had the windows open and the blinds lifted to catch every breeze. A woman’s silhouette paced past one window, holding an arm-waving toddler. Ali, Jason’s high-school sweetheart and his wife, mother of his children.
    Hunter both envied and feared what Jason had. The pain of losing what had once been part of his soul would always haunt him.
    In the faint breeze, the gauzy privacy curtains by Hunter’s face did a shy and languid dance, like the last girl watching the last boy from across the gymnasium, that tantalizing moment of will I or won’t I?
    He’d met Suzanne’s mother on a day like this. Seven years after that day, both mother and daughter were dead.
    Get past it. The world sure has.
    It had ended almost eight years ago, and it still cut like broken glass.
    The breeze danced over Hunter like laughter, like memories, burning. He slammed the window down. The curtains hung, lifeless. No more dance, no more shyness.
    No more.
    He picked up his cell phone and punched in a text message to Jase. Border Patrol types stuck together, even when it was officially called Immigration and Customs Enforcement, even though Hunter had quit years ago. He hadn’t liked having his hands tied by orders from on high while the bad guys ran free. ICE’s ropes were covered in velvet benefits, but they still cut his wrists after a while.
    Are your wrists bleeding, Jase?
    Somebody knocked on the apartment door. Hard. Jase’s voice came in, low and urgent.
    “Hunter, you in there? I saw lights.”
    Three long strides took Hunter to the door. When he opened it, Jase stood there, a thick manila envelope under his left arm. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet in worn leather sandals, his thick, short hair standing on end. His broad face looked tired. From the amount of dark stubble on his jaw, it had been at least a week since his last shave.
    “Hey, bro,” Hunter said, grabbing him. “I was just texting you. I’ve been in the Yucatan for two weeks.”
    Grinning, Jase stepped into the one-armed hug and mutual back whacking. “Figured that. Haven’t seen the blinds open until a few minutes ago.”
    “Ali and the kids okay?”
    “Colds, spit-ups, Christmas gotta-haves—the usual.”
    Hunter let out a silent sigh of relief. The kids were okay. Anything else that was wrong could be dealt with. He motioned Jase in and shut the door behind him.
    “You home for a while?” Jase asked.
    “Until the phone rings. The family business is exploding like popcorn. All the narco violence has people on both sides of the border checking under the beds.”
    “I don’t blame