Taz, page 5
“So, it’s that lucrative, huh?” I asked, now watching as she unbuttoned her olive drab shirt and discarded it to the dirty wooden floor.
Her tits were nice. Not too big; not too small. Her olive skin and dark areolas were indicative that she had Mediterranean heritage, maybe some Asian as well, though I didn’t know how I possibly could have known this.
She came over to where I was sitting on my cot; her hands shoving my shoulders roughly. The bitch had some strength, I’d give her that. I was now lying on my back and I watched with interest as Talia peeled off the rest of her clothing.
I felt her weight on me as she straddled my hips with her naked body. She didn’t waste any time in unzipping my fly; she pulled my dick out roughly.
“I’ve missed our time together, Daniel. I didn’t think you were up to resuming all of your duties, until now,” she said, her hand was now wrapped around my cock and she started to jack it.
Holy Christ! Had I been this bitch’s whore as well?
“I don’t recall this being part of my job description.”
“You don’t recall anything, that’s why I’m here to tell you that your job description has always been inclusive of whatever it is that I want at the moment. Besides, you never seemed to mind this before,” she argued, “In fact, we used to fuck regularly.”
“Is that a fact?” I asked, watching as she successfully got me hard. “Seems to me that we don’t actually like one another all that much. No hard feelings.”
Pardon the fucking pun.
“None taken, and you’re right about that,” she admitted, as she reached over to the table between our cots, and opened the drawer. “But see,” she continued, pulling a condom out, “Now why in the world would I have condoms here if this wasn’t something that you and I do?”
“You have me there,” I replied with a smirk.
“Besides,” she continued, as she tore open the wrapper and started rolling it down my length. “You always told me it’s the best tension reliever—just like Rapture. You claimed it’s how we stay on top of our game,” she whispered, as if I might have forgotten during my temporary absence, which I guess I had. “Now remember, we don’t kiss,” she reminded me. “Ever.”
“Not a problem,” I answered. I watched as she rose up and slowly lowered herself onto my rigid cock. My hands braced her hips as she started moving back and forth, and then up and down on me. It sure as hell didn’t feel familiar to me. And, for some reason, it didn’t feel all that good to me. I would actually prefer my hand to her pussy I thought to myself as she continued to ride my cock, with one hand cupping my balls.
She tossed her head back, her free hand running through her long mane of dark hair. “Oh God, that feels good!” she moaned loudly once she had settled into a rhythm on my cock, gliding herself up and down on it like she owned it. Like she seemed to own everyone here. “God, I’ve missed this! This feels so good with you, just like always. You know exactly how I like to be fucked.”
It was all news to me.
Hell, maybe I was gay and she had chosen to withhold that minor detail from me as a way to psychologically torture me.
But what the fuck? Why would she nurse me back to health physically only to fuck with my mind? None of this made any sense.
If she wanted to masturbate on my dick, so be it. I guess I earned my money in various ways. I was finding out stuff about myself on a daily basis.
Besides, a fuck was a fuck even if it was Talia riding my cock like a bitch in heat. I closed my eyes to see if someone else came to mind. Maybe if I conjured someone else up, this whole charade would make sense, because I sure as hell wasn’t enjoying fucking this bitch.
I waited to see if the face of some dude filtered into my imagination.
Nada. I was relieved at that.
I guess.
I hadn’t been into dudes.
I sighed audibly.
Then a flash of soft green eyes looking into the depths of mine invaded my senses. I immediately felt a flood of raw emotion. My hands braced her hips firmly and I rolled her up and down onto my cock in a rhythm that I knew.
At last, something seemed minutely familiar.
“Oh God,” I growled. A flash of long blonde hair appeared in my mind and I could damn near feel the silkiness of it brushing against my neck and shoulders as I rocked into her. “That’s it, baby girl,” I murmured; my eyes still closed waiting for a full view to materialize from these remnants of someone that had briefly flashed through my mind.
She moaned, groaned and then got her nut.
I did the same, but it seemed so fucking foreign to me. Something was missing.
Or someone.
Another week had gone by and I continued using Talia’s magic pills to keep the headaches to a minimum. No further cracks into my past filtered into my conscious mind.
Something inside of me was gnawing at my gut, and I was fairly sure it wasn’t the water South of the Border or the steady diet of fried tamales and green peppers. I decided to take anything Talia said with a grain of salt, because the longer I was around the chick, the more I suspected she was a mindfuck.
Hell, there was probably a bounty on her head somewhere—or maybe on mine, if what she said held any truth to it.
According to her, I’d killed a federal agent and she had told me to lay low until Carlos returned with my new identity, which she reminded me, didn’t come fucking cheap. She said she’d deduct it from my next portion of the take when the next shipment of Rapture arrived at the end of the month.
Carlos was due back in Santa Tecla any day now. He was her number one errand boy, from what I could tell—just a step down from me. The rest of the group consisted of three other men, Augusto, Pedro and Juan. They simply kept watch inside the gates of the small encampment.
I wasn’t quite sure what the deal was here in Santa Tecla. According to Talia, it was simply set up as a rest stop between shipments in and out of Mexico. Texas was home, she said. So for now, the worker bees were taking a rest and keeping a low profile in the compound until Talia, the ‘Queen Bee’ as I’d started referring to her in my mind, started dishing out assignments.
Something instinctual told me it was much more than just about smuggling designer drugs in and out of the U.S. I needed to follow the money.
Follow the money? Where in the fuck had that come from?
I went over to the cracked mirror that hung above the sink in our room. I needed to study my own face for a moment. Maybe some recollection would manage to seep in if I stared at my reflection long enough.
My green eyes had dark circles underneath them, which I could only guess was due to lack of sleep, and maybe the pills she’d been feeding me. I hadn’t been able to sleep deeply since, well hell—since I’d come to a few weeks back. The headache meds had certainly hindered that as well. It seemed that Talia was forever trying to push more of those fuckers down my throat.
I continued to look at my reflection. My hair was shaved off. Talia said I kept it shaved to maintain a militant look. That part seemed to be a lie because I could clearly see the difference in skin coloring from my face compared to my scalp.
I was muscular, so I apparently had kept in shape somehow, and I had a couple of tats that I didn’t recognize either. My dick hadn’t been circumcised but, again, that served to trigger nothing within my memory banks.
The only thing that tugged at me a bit was the fact that there was a rather distinct white area on my left hand ring finger. Had I been married at one time? If so, how damn recently?
I didn’t have time to dwell on that when Talia slammed through the door.
“Hey,” I said, as I turned to glare at her. “If I’m supposed to be your fucking bodyguard, then why the hell do you get up and leave before I wake up?”
“Relax, Daniel…or I guess I’d better be calling you by your new name now. I didn’t leave the compound. I just went up to the guard shack to pick up your new credentials. And you’re welcome, Wyatt.”
She tossed a manila envelope over to me. I grabbed it, and pulled the I.D.’s out.
“Wyatt Greenlee?” I asked, glancing over at her. She was changing her top, putting a clean wife-beater on for the day as the heat started to ramp up.
“Yeah, that’s you,” she answered, going to the sink to splash cool water on her face. “You’re all set with a driver’s license issued out of the State of Texas, and a passport too. For when we cross over at the guarded borders,” she tossed out with a smirk.
I stuck the identification into the pockets of my camouflaged fatigues, and pulled off my black tee so that I could wash up before going out with her for the day. She’d told me the night before that a shipment was coming up from Nicaragua by way of boat, so we’d be heading east to the port to get it. This one was going straight into the States, and being picked up by a courier cell that was taking it on up to Canada.
“So, you’re clear on making the connection once we get there?” she asked, looking over at me as I brushed my teeth. “Because, you know, I can’t be there with you. I have to meet with a Federal at the export office and negotiate the payoff. You have to make sure that everything gets loaded, and mark off the manifest to confirm everything is there, got it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, rinsing my mouth making sure I didn’t swallow any of the foul-smelling water. “Hand me that bottled water,” I said. “I need a copy of the manifest, don’t I? Where is it?”
She tossed the bottle of water over to me with a frown. “Do I work for you now, Wyatt?” she asked. “Kind of forgetting your place, aren’t you?”
I popped a couple pills and then took a long draw on the bottled water in order to swallow them. I took another drink, swishing it around before spitting it into the sink. “I don’t know, Talia. I guess it depends on whether or not I’m buying the back story you provided me.”
Immediately, she bristled. “That’s just fucking great,” she said with a hiss. “I fucking saved your ass and now you want to question my motives? What the fuck?”
“Calm your shit down,” I replied, grabbing a clean tee and pulling it on over my head. I noticed she hadn’t answered my question and wondered if her irritation with me was to avoid answering it. “And this fucking bandage is coming off now for good. I’m healed.” I pulled it off, wincing just a bit as it stuck to my stubbled scalp.
“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug. “So then, we are clear on the fact that I’ll be staying out of sight and trusting you to see that things go as planned? I’ll hand over the manifest once we get there.” “Yeah, I’ve got it,” I replied, fastening my ankle holster up underneath a pant leg. “Just let Wyatt handle everything, babe.”
“Just see that you do. This is the biggest cash haul yet, and you can’t afford to fuck it up.”
“Speaking of which, how much is my take?” I asked.
“Ten thousand for you; twenty thousand for me once it’s picked up in El Paso.”
“That’s hardly fair,” I replied, “Didn’t you say that shipment has a street value of two million?”
“We’ve got people to pay along the way,” she replied, eyeing me.
I scoffed. “Okay, but how much can that be for Chrissake?”
“What is it you’re uncomfortable with here? You’ve never complained about your share before—why now? You realize that this is more than just about the money. This is for the greater good.”
Whatever the fuck that meant.
I shrugged and chuckled. “Just wanted to make sure the share I’m getting is the same I was getting before I lost all of my recollections, not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve got to look after my greater good here.”
She threw me a frosty glare. “You do your part, and I’ll do mine. You can watch me count out our cuts if it’s a matter of trust with you.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, as we left the compound in the truck, heading for the Port of Frontera.
I wondered what kind of a hornet’s nest we might be walking into. Her stories were starting to unravel, but I’d be damned if I could prove anything with my memory wiped clean the way it had been.
Maybe time would serve to restore it. I could only hope.
The drive to the coast was uneventful, and I noticed that something instinctual had kicked in that caused my senses to elevate to high alert. I found myself constantly checking my side mirrors to make sure we hadn’t picked up a tail along the dirt highway.
Even the occasional straggler or panhandler along the side of the road received my utmost perusal making sure that a firearm or grenade wasn’t being hidden only to be whipped out and aimed towards us as the truck passed by.
“Nervous?” Talia asked, watching me.
“Not particularly. Why? Should I be?”
“Everything should go just fine, Wyatt. Once you’re inside, go to Pier 7 and then just drive around to the loading dock at Warehouse B. You can drop me at the gate. I’ll be waiting on you once you’re loaded and leaving. And trust me, don’t pull any shit.”
I looked over at her and saw the glint of gun metal from her handbag. “Who’s got a trust issue now?” I asked, smirking. “Don’t worry, Queen Bee. Where would I go and what would I do, huh?”
She nodded. “You’ll do well to remember that. Be a good boy. There just might be some pussy in it for you as a bonus. Here’s the manifest,” she replied, tossing a manila envelope on the seat next to me. “Don’t let it out of your sight, and check each and every pallet and container, got it?”
I pulled over to the side of the road before we got to the gates leading to the piers and let her out. “Yeah, got it.”
I drove off once she was out of the truck. My mind said ‘no thanks’ to the pussy. She wasn’t my type, although I didn’t know how the fuck I even knew or thought that. But I did. I didn’t need the complications of being with some young, alpha chick with spurs in her cunt. Good way to get your dick cut off.
I pulled to the gate, showing my identification to the ‘officials’ for lack of a better word. Mexico is…well, Mexico. It’s hard to distinguish government officials from common thieves; everyone seemed to have a price.
The electronic gate lifted and I drove on through, looking for the signs to direct me to Pier 7, and then to Warehouse B. I found it and saw that this particular wharf structure was longer than the rest. I hoped like hell I didn’t have a long wait as I pulled up in the line for unloading.
I switched the truck radio on to relax and maybe kill some time as I was third in line. After a couple of minutes, I noticed that one of the Mexican Agents had opened another bay. He blew a whistle and then beckoned me to pull out and over to the open bay.
‘Cool dat’ I thought as I pulled out of line and rolled on over towards the loading area of the now-opened bay. The dark-haired guy came over to the driver’s side, clipboard in hand as I lowered the window and presented my identification to him, along with the bill of lading for the cargo I was authorized to transport.
He studied it and then looked up at me. He had some fucking ice-blue eyes I noticed, and they seemed to be studying me like he was trying to memorize my face.
Holy fuck. Not DEA, I hoped like hell!
“Get out of the truck,” he ordered brusquely. “I need to check you for weapons.”
Ah, hell.
I did as instructed and he immediately patted me down, instructing me to shed my boots. Once done, he told me to step away from the vehicle several paces.
What now?
“Taz,” he said, his voice strong, but low. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Say what?” I asked, looking around quickly to see if some sort of a bust was going down. “My name is Wyatt. Wyatt Greenlee.”
Dude had a well-trimmed goatee going on, but hell if I’d ever seen his ass before! This was a fucking setup.
Fuck Talia!
He appeared to be writing shit down on his clipboard, as he handed my identification back to me. “Let’s go around to the back of the truck. You’ll need to open it for me to check before I allow you to load.”
“Whatever, dude,” I replied, circling around to the back of the truck and raising the door to the trailer so that he could see that it was empty. He appeared to be jotting something down on his clipboard.
“That’s fine. Follow me,” he ordered turning and walking towards the side of the building where the overhead doors to each bay was located.
Hell, maybe it was simply an additional payoff. I hoped like hell I had enough to buy these idiots off so I could get loaded and get the fuck out of here.
Dark-haired dude turned to me in a flash once we reached the side of the building. “Taz, what the fuck? What the hell are you doing, man?”
“What the hell are you, doing?” I barked. “And who the fuck is Taz? I told you my name, amigo, so what the fuck is the problem here? What? You need some dinero, bro? Is this a shakedown or what?”
“Lower your fucking voice,” he said calmly, but with authority. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to listen to me and you need to listen good.”
There was something in his voice—I’m not sure what is was, but whatever it was, it told me to keep quiet and listen. This wasn’t a shakedown, that much I was certain.
He eyed me cautiously, and then quickly scribbled something on the paper attached to his clipboard and handed it over to me. I took it, and glanced down to read what he had written:
Are you wired?
I handed it back to him and shook my head. What in the hell was his deal?
“Listen man, I don’t know what the fuck has happened to you over the past several weeks. When Trevani told me that you stayed behind after they blew their cover, and then when the Bureau and Lindsey started receiving those streamed videos from your field phone…” he said as his voice trailed off. “Well, it didn’t take long to get your location traced and the resources in place to get here. You cleared LaPorte pretty quick. The camp is empty.”
