Taz, page 4
“I hear, Wyatt. Just shut up and drive. You know the way.”
It was just a couple of minutes past midnight when we reached the meeting place, twenty miles into Mexico. Capri hadn’t said a word, but she’d kept both guns in her lap, not taking her eyes off of me for more than a moment or two at a time.
I was fairly certain she was more skittish than anything else. She obviously didn’t like having to be part of the transactional bullshit for obvious reasons, yet she wasn’t in a position to dispose of me just yet. The people that brought the goods had been adamant about having no more than two people picking up. It had always been Marco and me.
We waited in the darkness, and finally the headlights of the approaching van that carried the goods in question rounded the bend of the dirt road, flashing their headlights off and on twice, which was the signal.
“That’s them,” I said, opening the door of the truck. She handed me the manila envelope before she got out.
“Here,” she said, “I’ll open the back of the truck. Make this quick.”
“I thought you had my back?” I asked, taking the money.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh, “It’ll only take me a second, I’m sure you’ll be just fine as long as you hold onto the money until I’m back in sight.”
I shrugged, and turned back to where the other van had now pulled up and shut off the engine. The driver got out and I recognized it was Manuel. I’d only met him one other time. He had a higher up position within whatever cartel was bankrolling him these days. Apparently, he dealt in shit other than weapons going into Mexico.
“Good evening, Mr. Greenlee. I see you have a new partner with you this evening. I hope that Marco is well?”
I shrugged. He was baiting me. “I couldn’t say,” I responded.
“Raoul,” he barked, “Unload the boxes and help Mr. Greenlee here load them into their truck.”
He moved closer to me. “I’ll take that,” he said, nodding toward the envelope.
I turned to make sure Capri was back in sight and noticed she was coming around from the back of the truck. She nodded, raising her Beretta in plain view.
Manuel snickered, “Ah, I see the lady has an issue with trust. That makes for a nervous trigger finger, si? But there’s no need for that as long as the money is all here.” He opened the envelope and counted the cash. “Hold up, Raoul,” he barked. “It appears that all the money is not here.” He raised his eyes to me questioningly.
Fuck. The fuckin’ bitch!
I turned to Capri, just in time to see the flash of the shot fired from her Beretta that landed squarely in the middle of Manuel’s forehead, the spray of bone and brain splattered my hoodie.
“Don’t move!” she shouted, as Raoul went for his weapon, but her reflexes were superior as another shot rang out hitting him in the temple and taking him out.
“What the fuck?” I snarled.
“I hate middlemen,” she said. “We don’t need to pay off these fucking jackals anymore. Thanks to Natalia, we have negotiated a better trade route for future shipments coming in from Nicaragua. Now, load those crates,” she ordered, stooping down to pick up the manila envelope holding the money. “And then grab the shovel from the back and dig a grave big enough for these two.”
I was still stunned at what she had done. Certainly, the bitch knew the rest of the Mexican Cartel would be hunting her cunt for this. She was a sociopath that lacked common sense. Or perhaps she simply felt invincible.
She glared at me. “Move it, Wyatt. It’s simple economics.”
I loaded the crates, and dug the grave, rolling the two bodies into it and shoveling dirt over them. Capri ordered me to drive their van over to the edge of a large ravine.
“Now, push it over,” she ordered, standing there still pointing the freakin’ gun at me.
I moved the gearshift to neutral and pushed the dilapidated van over the edge, where it flipped end-over-end until it crashed at the bottom, bursting into flames.
“Let’s go,” she hollered, waving the gun at me.
“Alright, alright,” I growled. “Let me put the shovel back and shut the back of the truck. I needed to get a picture of those crates. I had seen some markings in Spanish on the sides that I needed to have translated. I pulled my field phone out quickly, snapping several shots, as I rolled the door closed and secured it.
She came up behind me just as I finished. “Let’s move,” she barked. “No telling how long it will take the Federales to surface.”
Once back at the compound, Capri instructed me to pull the truck up alongside the long, steel building that was used to store the contraband until it was ready for transport to any one of a dozen different locations, both domestic and international. Their network was intricately designed to avoid detection, which had become apparent.
She got out of the truck, turning her back on me momentarily to unlock the padlocked door, trusting no one other than herself to the extent she felt less risk in having me out of sight than handing the key over to me.
I took the opportunity to send the picture I’d been able to snap of the cargo, along with a quick encoded message to Slate, before she turned back to the truck, ordering me to get the cargo unloaded. My instincts were on high alert. Something was not right, but I was clueless as to what it was.
I slipped my phone into my boot without taking my eyes from her, opening the door of the cab, and jumping down to do as she bade.
I had just opened the roll top door on the back of the truck, when I felt the cold steel barrel of her handgun pressed against my right temple.
Holy fuck.
“Raise your arms and then freeze,” she ordered. “Natalia, pat this agent down.” I raised my arms slowly and, from behind, I felt hands moving up and down my torso, presumably Natalia who had joined us unbeknownst to me.
“Top half good,” Natalia replied.
“Lower your arms and keep them in front of you,” Capri instructed. “My trigger finger is getting itchy.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I replied, doing as instructed.
Natalia came around from behind and grabbed my wrists, handcuffing them together quickly.
“Check his boots,” Capri ordered, not taking her eyes from mine.
As Natalia squatted down to my side, I realized I had about three and a half seconds to take control, and the only available weapons were my legs.
I raised my eyes to look past Capri, a smile spreading over my mouth as I gave a slight nod, making her believe that someone was approaching her from behind.
It bought me two more seconds.
As she turned her head to the side, briefly, I executed a swift Yop Chagi (side kick) the heel of my foot making contact with Natalia’s right shoulder, sending her stumbling several feet backwards onto the hard ground.
I immediately pivoted 180 degrees, swinging my other leg from behind, and fully extending it so that the back of my heel delivered one, quick lethal blow to Capri’s throat. I heard the snap of her neck as she went down, just as she pulled the trigger to fire a shot.
The explosion of her gun echoed in the dark, starless night, followed by a plaintive wail in the distance. It was Natalia. She was mourning the loss of her lover as the bullet from Capri’s single shot grazed my left temple, enveloping me in utter silence and total darkness as I fell to the ground.
Lindsey
Taz had been gone for over three weeks. I hadn’t heard a word from him since he’d left.
It wasn’t as if he’d never been gone this long before, because he had, and then some, but usually I’d hear something from him before now. This time just seemed different.
Mom and I had been busy getting everything ordered for the first daycare center remodel. Liam had given us a contract to handle the first unit, along with a contingency clause on the other six units if we met the timeline and stayed at or under budget on the first. This was the biggest job we’d ever had and we were determined to make it a success.
I glanced over at the clock on the stove. It was going on ten o’clock. I’d put the kids down at eight and had been going over figures for nearly two hours. It helped to pass the time and distract me from worrying about Taz.
I got up and refilled my coffee mug. I was about to sit back down at the table when the doorbell rang.
Who the hell would be coming over this late?
I flipped on the outside light, and saw through the beveled glass side windows of the front entrance that it was Mom…and Slate.
Oh God.
This couldn’t possibly be a good thing.
As soon as I opened the door, a feeling of dread and numbness crept over me. It wasn’t as if anything had been spoken.
I knew.
“Is he alive?”
I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. Three forty-four a.m. I hadn’t slept a wink in the three and a half hours since I’d crawled into this enormous, lonely bed.
Beside me, Mom was sleeping restlessly, but at least she could sleep. She had insisted on staying with me, even though I had insisted I would be alright.
She knew better.
How would anything ever be alright until my Taz came home?
The tears once again started rolling down my cheeks. How could I possibly have any left? I thought I was all cried out once Slate had given me the news that Taz was missing.
Missing?
How in the hell could that have happened in this day and age? What about GPS? What about all of the other secret, high-tech gadgets the Bureau has that aren’t commercially available? I had posed those questions to Slate.
I hadn’t received any answers though. I was told that the Bureau was doing everything possible to locate my husband, and see that he made it back safely. He wasn’t at liberty to divulge any further details, or even tell me where Taz had been when he went missing.
Fuck that.
All I knew for sure was that Taz had gone missing three days prior and I was just now hearing about it! I asked why the delay. Slate wasn’t at liberty to share that with me either.
Fuck Slate.
Apparently, the whole explanation I’d been given by Taz before he left was merely a façade.
A lie.
It was covert and a couple other agents had been involved, their statuses had been confirmed, but Taz’s status was currently unconfirmed. No other details could be provided by the Bureau at this time.
Fuck the Bureau.
I rolled over, pulling the comforter up under my chin. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood.
He had to be alive.
He had to come home.
From the side of the bed, I heard something and I turned to face Jackson. He wanted up in bed with me. Taz didn’t approve of him sleeping with us…with me.
“I guess it’s okay just this once,” I whispered, pulling the comforter back, and helping him up into bed.
He nestled down against me, and finally, I was comforted for the moment. Sleep had finally found me.
Three Weeks Later...
Somewhere in Mexico
Something was wrong. My instincts told me that. Though being that I could only remember as far back as a couple of weeks ago when I’d come to in this hell hole called Santa Tecla, I was hard-pressed to know if those instincts I called mine were even valid. All I knew was that this shit didn’t feel right; none of it.
I finished cleaning the Glock and put it away in the holster; I started on the high-powered Colt M16 rifle that was leaning against the table. The bitch sure liked her firearms.
The bitch?
She had a name. It was Talia. And she wasn’t back yet from some important meeting that she’d had off site. I shook my head in disgust. As much as she was a stickler for everyone else in the camp to practice punctuality, or to jump when she ordered us to do so, she sure as hell wasn’t setting a good example. But hell, who was I to call her out on it?
Who was I at all was the real question.
Talia had called me Daniel from the moment I’d opened my eyes and saw her gray ones studying me. She’d obviously been taking care of me, though it didn’t appear there was any affection attached to it. She simply said that I needed to live because I was of value to her and to the rest of the cartel.
I wasn’t quite sure what it was that made me valuable¸ but I had no choice but to take her word for it since my options were zilch. I figured Talia would fill me in on it in due time like she had everything else so far.
Apparently, I’d suffered a traumatic head injury while in the line of duty; duty, to her, was my presumption. A bullet had grazed my left temple, and then I’d taken a hearty whack on the back of my skull from behind by one of the perps trying to rob us, at least that’s how she had explained it to me.
And it was all to save her.
Still, it was difficult for me to get my mind around the fact that I reported to a female. A woman that led this cartel that I purportedly belonged to, and one that did all kinds of covert and illegal activities on either side of the border.
Talia was a young female at that; also very beautiful, but all business with an odd sense of fair play, which was obvious in the way she treated her crew.
Fuck, she couldn’t have been any older than twenty-four or twenty-five, if I had to guess. She’d told me that I was thirty-two, and that I’d been part of a rival cartel, that is until she had successfully recruited me over to her side a couple of years back. The cartel I’d left still wanted both of us dead.
She said that I’d been in charge of security, along with being her own personal aid and bodyguard. She also mentioned that she’d felt vulnerable when I had been injured protecting her from some greedy and aggressive Federales once we’d paid the import costs and claimed our freight at the docks in the Port of Frontera. Because of my injuries, we were now behind on our mission by a couple of weeks. She claimed I’d been lucky that she was such a good shot, or I might have been killed for certain.
Fuck!
The thing was that I didn’t remember any of it. The others all seemed to corroborate her story, calling me Daniel and not questioning the fact that I stayed in the same cabin in the compound that she did. She assured me that was part of my role as her personal bodyguard. Apparently she had all kinds of enemies, though I had no clue as to who they were. She hadn’t elaborated, only told me that it was my job to be a human shield for her if needed.
I had no reason to believe it wasn’t the truth what with the arsenal of weapons at my disposal, and bulletproof vests that nearly everyone wore. I still had no innate sense of responsibility or loyalty where she was concerned. The truth was, I didn’t much like her.
Based on the fact that she had personally seen to my recovery, I supposed it stood to reason that it was the truth. I was of value to her because of my skill with weapons, and that was further proven when I’d discovered the big wad of cash in the pocket of my olive drab fatigues.
Fatigues?
That was an interesting term from...somewhere. Why hadn’t I referred to them in my mind as just...pants?
Talia barged through the door to our cabin, and tossed her backpack onto her cot. She placed her cell phone on the table that separated our cots.
Immediately, my head started to throb. Another one of those fucking headaches was coming on. They had plagued me from the moment I’d come to a week or two back. Although they weren’t as frequent or as debilitating as they had been, they still happened at least once a day. Talia had told me she’d been giving me injections for the pain while I’d been in a coma.
Now that I was out of it, she had been giving me handfuls of painkillers when they occurred and, even now, as I felt one coming on, she was quick to hand me a couple of pills to swallow despite my objections.
“Why would you want to endure the pain?” she asked harshly.
“Because those fuckers make me feel loopy,” I responded, as I tossed them down with some brackish water. “It’s not like me to cave into the pain,” I replied.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, her eyes flickering over me suspiciously.
“I guess I don’t know that other than it just doesn’t feel normal to me,” I shrugged.
“You don’t even know what normal is just yet. You’ve been out of it for a while. Maybe you need another injection?” she offered.
“Fuck that. Why don’t you just fill me in? You’ve been pretty sketchy with my background—and the others well, shit, when I ask them something they just tell me to ask you. What’s the deal with that?”
“That’s because I know you better than anyone here. You’ve been with me for almost two years.”
She noticed as I winced from the pain that hadn’t yet subsided.
“Give it a few minutes, Daniel. The medicine will kick in.”
“What are in those pills?”
She gave a sardonic snort. “One of the best compounds coming out of Nicaragua. And you’ve been helping that happen for the better part of a year now. Don’t you remember? You named this particular designer drug yourself.”
“Obviously not,” I growled, gritting my teeth as the pain peaked.
“Rapture,” she cooed. “Because it’s ten times better than Ecstasy, at least that’s what you said. It’s a combination of the opiate, orphenadrine with a sprinkle of amphetamine content. Kills the pain, relaxes some of the muscles, and a special ingredient that lets you go all night long.”
“Go where?” I asked, finally feeling the pain subside as I rubbed my fingers in a circular motion on my right temple. My left was still covered with a bandage. A rush of dopamine ambushed the pain, and a splinter of euphoria started rolling in to take its place.
“Don’t play dumb, Daniel. It makes you rock and roll all night long…at least that’s what you said. And your actions sure as hell proved it to me. Even when you were out of it,” she said with a laugh.
I quirked a brow as I looked over at her. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Hmm,” she said, turning and locking the door of our cabin “It’s been awhile, and I realize that you’ve been through a lot. So maybe I need to refresh your memory about Rapture. I mean, it’s one of the reasons you’ve made sure that nothing happens to me since I’m the importer of record in Mexico. And you do such a fantastic job in making sure the Federales don’t threaten or take advantage of me with their import fees, or stalk me after we leave the port for the border.”
It was just a couple of minutes past midnight when we reached the meeting place, twenty miles into Mexico. Capri hadn’t said a word, but she’d kept both guns in her lap, not taking her eyes off of me for more than a moment or two at a time.
I was fairly certain she was more skittish than anything else. She obviously didn’t like having to be part of the transactional bullshit for obvious reasons, yet she wasn’t in a position to dispose of me just yet. The people that brought the goods had been adamant about having no more than two people picking up. It had always been Marco and me.
We waited in the darkness, and finally the headlights of the approaching van that carried the goods in question rounded the bend of the dirt road, flashing their headlights off and on twice, which was the signal.
“That’s them,” I said, opening the door of the truck. She handed me the manila envelope before she got out.
“Here,” she said, “I’ll open the back of the truck. Make this quick.”
“I thought you had my back?” I asked, taking the money.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh, “It’ll only take me a second, I’m sure you’ll be just fine as long as you hold onto the money until I’m back in sight.”
I shrugged, and turned back to where the other van had now pulled up and shut off the engine. The driver got out and I recognized it was Manuel. I’d only met him one other time. He had a higher up position within whatever cartel was bankrolling him these days. Apparently, he dealt in shit other than weapons going into Mexico.
“Good evening, Mr. Greenlee. I see you have a new partner with you this evening. I hope that Marco is well?”
I shrugged. He was baiting me. “I couldn’t say,” I responded.
“Raoul,” he barked, “Unload the boxes and help Mr. Greenlee here load them into their truck.”
He moved closer to me. “I’ll take that,” he said, nodding toward the envelope.
I turned to make sure Capri was back in sight and noticed she was coming around from the back of the truck. She nodded, raising her Beretta in plain view.
Manuel snickered, “Ah, I see the lady has an issue with trust. That makes for a nervous trigger finger, si? But there’s no need for that as long as the money is all here.” He opened the envelope and counted the cash. “Hold up, Raoul,” he barked. “It appears that all the money is not here.” He raised his eyes to me questioningly.
Fuck. The fuckin’ bitch!
I turned to Capri, just in time to see the flash of the shot fired from her Beretta that landed squarely in the middle of Manuel’s forehead, the spray of bone and brain splattered my hoodie.
“Don’t move!” she shouted, as Raoul went for his weapon, but her reflexes were superior as another shot rang out hitting him in the temple and taking him out.
“What the fuck?” I snarled.
“I hate middlemen,” she said. “We don’t need to pay off these fucking jackals anymore. Thanks to Natalia, we have negotiated a better trade route for future shipments coming in from Nicaragua. Now, load those crates,” she ordered, stooping down to pick up the manila envelope holding the money. “And then grab the shovel from the back and dig a grave big enough for these two.”
I was still stunned at what she had done. Certainly, the bitch knew the rest of the Mexican Cartel would be hunting her cunt for this. She was a sociopath that lacked common sense. Or perhaps she simply felt invincible.
She glared at me. “Move it, Wyatt. It’s simple economics.”
I loaded the crates, and dug the grave, rolling the two bodies into it and shoveling dirt over them. Capri ordered me to drive their van over to the edge of a large ravine.
“Now, push it over,” she ordered, standing there still pointing the freakin’ gun at me.
I moved the gearshift to neutral and pushed the dilapidated van over the edge, where it flipped end-over-end until it crashed at the bottom, bursting into flames.
“Let’s go,” she hollered, waving the gun at me.
“Alright, alright,” I growled. “Let me put the shovel back and shut the back of the truck. I needed to get a picture of those crates. I had seen some markings in Spanish on the sides that I needed to have translated. I pulled my field phone out quickly, snapping several shots, as I rolled the door closed and secured it.
She came up behind me just as I finished. “Let’s move,” she barked. “No telling how long it will take the Federales to surface.”
Once back at the compound, Capri instructed me to pull the truck up alongside the long, steel building that was used to store the contraband until it was ready for transport to any one of a dozen different locations, both domestic and international. Their network was intricately designed to avoid detection, which had become apparent.
She got out of the truck, turning her back on me momentarily to unlock the padlocked door, trusting no one other than herself to the extent she felt less risk in having me out of sight than handing the key over to me.
I took the opportunity to send the picture I’d been able to snap of the cargo, along with a quick encoded message to Slate, before she turned back to the truck, ordering me to get the cargo unloaded. My instincts were on high alert. Something was not right, but I was clueless as to what it was.
I slipped my phone into my boot without taking my eyes from her, opening the door of the cab, and jumping down to do as she bade.
I had just opened the roll top door on the back of the truck, when I felt the cold steel barrel of her handgun pressed against my right temple.
Holy fuck.
“Raise your arms and then freeze,” she ordered. “Natalia, pat this agent down.” I raised my arms slowly and, from behind, I felt hands moving up and down my torso, presumably Natalia who had joined us unbeknownst to me.
“Top half good,” Natalia replied.
“Lower your arms and keep them in front of you,” Capri instructed. “My trigger finger is getting itchy.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I replied, doing as instructed.
Natalia came around from behind and grabbed my wrists, handcuffing them together quickly.
“Check his boots,” Capri ordered, not taking her eyes from mine.
As Natalia squatted down to my side, I realized I had about three and a half seconds to take control, and the only available weapons were my legs.
I raised my eyes to look past Capri, a smile spreading over my mouth as I gave a slight nod, making her believe that someone was approaching her from behind.
It bought me two more seconds.
As she turned her head to the side, briefly, I executed a swift Yop Chagi (side kick) the heel of my foot making contact with Natalia’s right shoulder, sending her stumbling several feet backwards onto the hard ground.
I immediately pivoted 180 degrees, swinging my other leg from behind, and fully extending it so that the back of my heel delivered one, quick lethal blow to Capri’s throat. I heard the snap of her neck as she went down, just as she pulled the trigger to fire a shot.
The explosion of her gun echoed in the dark, starless night, followed by a plaintive wail in the distance. It was Natalia. She was mourning the loss of her lover as the bullet from Capri’s single shot grazed my left temple, enveloping me in utter silence and total darkness as I fell to the ground.
Lindsey
Taz had been gone for over three weeks. I hadn’t heard a word from him since he’d left.
It wasn’t as if he’d never been gone this long before, because he had, and then some, but usually I’d hear something from him before now. This time just seemed different.
Mom and I had been busy getting everything ordered for the first daycare center remodel. Liam had given us a contract to handle the first unit, along with a contingency clause on the other six units if we met the timeline and stayed at or under budget on the first. This was the biggest job we’d ever had and we were determined to make it a success.
I glanced over at the clock on the stove. It was going on ten o’clock. I’d put the kids down at eight and had been going over figures for nearly two hours. It helped to pass the time and distract me from worrying about Taz.
I got up and refilled my coffee mug. I was about to sit back down at the table when the doorbell rang.
Who the hell would be coming over this late?
I flipped on the outside light, and saw through the beveled glass side windows of the front entrance that it was Mom…and Slate.
Oh God.
This couldn’t possibly be a good thing.
As soon as I opened the door, a feeling of dread and numbness crept over me. It wasn’t as if anything had been spoken.
I knew.
“Is he alive?”
I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. Three forty-four a.m. I hadn’t slept a wink in the three and a half hours since I’d crawled into this enormous, lonely bed.
Beside me, Mom was sleeping restlessly, but at least she could sleep. She had insisted on staying with me, even though I had insisted I would be alright.
She knew better.
How would anything ever be alright until my Taz came home?
The tears once again started rolling down my cheeks. How could I possibly have any left? I thought I was all cried out once Slate had given me the news that Taz was missing.
Missing?
How in the hell could that have happened in this day and age? What about GPS? What about all of the other secret, high-tech gadgets the Bureau has that aren’t commercially available? I had posed those questions to Slate.
I hadn’t received any answers though. I was told that the Bureau was doing everything possible to locate my husband, and see that he made it back safely. He wasn’t at liberty to divulge any further details, or even tell me where Taz had been when he went missing.
Fuck that.
All I knew for sure was that Taz had gone missing three days prior and I was just now hearing about it! I asked why the delay. Slate wasn’t at liberty to share that with me either.
Fuck Slate.
Apparently, the whole explanation I’d been given by Taz before he left was merely a façade.
A lie.
It was covert and a couple other agents had been involved, their statuses had been confirmed, but Taz’s status was currently unconfirmed. No other details could be provided by the Bureau at this time.
Fuck the Bureau.
I rolled over, pulling the comforter up under my chin. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood.
He had to be alive.
He had to come home.
From the side of the bed, I heard something and I turned to face Jackson. He wanted up in bed with me. Taz didn’t approve of him sleeping with us…with me.
“I guess it’s okay just this once,” I whispered, pulling the comforter back, and helping him up into bed.
He nestled down against me, and finally, I was comforted for the moment. Sleep had finally found me.
Three Weeks Later...
Somewhere in Mexico
Something was wrong. My instincts told me that. Though being that I could only remember as far back as a couple of weeks ago when I’d come to in this hell hole called Santa Tecla, I was hard-pressed to know if those instincts I called mine were even valid. All I knew was that this shit didn’t feel right; none of it.
I finished cleaning the Glock and put it away in the holster; I started on the high-powered Colt M16 rifle that was leaning against the table. The bitch sure liked her firearms.
The bitch?
She had a name. It was Talia. And she wasn’t back yet from some important meeting that she’d had off site. I shook my head in disgust. As much as she was a stickler for everyone else in the camp to practice punctuality, or to jump when she ordered us to do so, she sure as hell wasn’t setting a good example. But hell, who was I to call her out on it?
Who was I at all was the real question.
Talia had called me Daniel from the moment I’d opened my eyes and saw her gray ones studying me. She’d obviously been taking care of me, though it didn’t appear there was any affection attached to it. She simply said that I needed to live because I was of value to her and to the rest of the cartel.
I wasn’t quite sure what it was that made me valuable¸ but I had no choice but to take her word for it since my options were zilch. I figured Talia would fill me in on it in due time like she had everything else so far.
Apparently, I’d suffered a traumatic head injury while in the line of duty; duty, to her, was my presumption. A bullet had grazed my left temple, and then I’d taken a hearty whack on the back of my skull from behind by one of the perps trying to rob us, at least that’s how she had explained it to me.
And it was all to save her.
Still, it was difficult for me to get my mind around the fact that I reported to a female. A woman that led this cartel that I purportedly belonged to, and one that did all kinds of covert and illegal activities on either side of the border.
Talia was a young female at that; also very beautiful, but all business with an odd sense of fair play, which was obvious in the way she treated her crew.
Fuck, she couldn’t have been any older than twenty-four or twenty-five, if I had to guess. She’d told me that I was thirty-two, and that I’d been part of a rival cartel, that is until she had successfully recruited me over to her side a couple of years back. The cartel I’d left still wanted both of us dead.
She said that I’d been in charge of security, along with being her own personal aid and bodyguard. She also mentioned that she’d felt vulnerable when I had been injured protecting her from some greedy and aggressive Federales once we’d paid the import costs and claimed our freight at the docks in the Port of Frontera. Because of my injuries, we were now behind on our mission by a couple of weeks. She claimed I’d been lucky that she was such a good shot, or I might have been killed for certain.
Fuck!
The thing was that I didn’t remember any of it. The others all seemed to corroborate her story, calling me Daniel and not questioning the fact that I stayed in the same cabin in the compound that she did. She assured me that was part of my role as her personal bodyguard. Apparently she had all kinds of enemies, though I had no clue as to who they were. She hadn’t elaborated, only told me that it was my job to be a human shield for her if needed.
I had no reason to believe it wasn’t the truth what with the arsenal of weapons at my disposal, and bulletproof vests that nearly everyone wore. I still had no innate sense of responsibility or loyalty where she was concerned. The truth was, I didn’t much like her.
Based on the fact that she had personally seen to my recovery, I supposed it stood to reason that it was the truth. I was of value to her because of my skill with weapons, and that was further proven when I’d discovered the big wad of cash in the pocket of my olive drab fatigues.
Fatigues?
That was an interesting term from...somewhere. Why hadn’t I referred to them in my mind as just...pants?
Talia barged through the door to our cabin, and tossed her backpack onto her cot. She placed her cell phone on the table that separated our cots.
Immediately, my head started to throb. Another one of those fucking headaches was coming on. They had plagued me from the moment I’d come to a week or two back. Although they weren’t as frequent or as debilitating as they had been, they still happened at least once a day. Talia had told me she’d been giving me injections for the pain while I’d been in a coma.
Now that I was out of it, she had been giving me handfuls of painkillers when they occurred and, even now, as I felt one coming on, she was quick to hand me a couple of pills to swallow despite my objections.
“Why would you want to endure the pain?” she asked harshly.
“Because those fuckers make me feel loopy,” I responded, as I tossed them down with some brackish water. “It’s not like me to cave into the pain,” I replied.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, her eyes flickering over me suspiciously.
“I guess I don’t know that other than it just doesn’t feel normal to me,” I shrugged.
“You don’t even know what normal is just yet. You’ve been out of it for a while. Maybe you need another injection?” she offered.
“Fuck that. Why don’t you just fill me in? You’ve been pretty sketchy with my background—and the others well, shit, when I ask them something they just tell me to ask you. What’s the deal with that?”
“That’s because I know you better than anyone here. You’ve been with me for almost two years.”
She noticed as I winced from the pain that hadn’t yet subsided.
“Give it a few minutes, Daniel. The medicine will kick in.”
“What are in those pills?”
She gave a sardonic snort. “One of the best compounds coming out of Nicaragua. And you’ve been helping that happen for the better part of a year now. Don’t you remember? You named this particular designer drug yourself.”
“Obviously not,” I growled, gritting my teeth as the pain peaked.
“Rapture,” she cooed. “Because it’s ten times better than Ecstasy, at least that’s what you said. It’s a combination of the opiate, orphenadrine with a sprinkle of amphetamine content. Kills the pain, relaxes some of the muscles, and a special ingredient that lets you go all night long.”
“Go where?” I asked, finally feeling the pain subside as I rubbed my fingers in a circular motion on my right temple. My left was still covered with a bandage. A rush of dopamine ambushed the pain, and a splinter of euphoria started rolling in to take its place.
“Don’t play dumb, Daniel. It makes you rock and roll all night long…at least that’s what you said. And your actions sure as hell proved it to me. Even when you were out of it,” she said with a laugh.
I quirked a brow as I looked over at her. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Hmm,” she said, turning and locking the door of our cabin “It’s been awhile, and I realize that you’ve been through a lot. So maybe I need to refresh your memory about Rapture. I mean, it’s one of the reasons you’ve made sure that nothing happens to me since I’m the importer of record in Mexico. And you do such a fantastic job in making sure the Federales don’t threaten or take advantage of me with their import fees, or stalk me after we leave the port for the border.”
