Taz, page 3
“It’s Liam,” he replied in his faux British accent. Yeah, it sounded totally fake to me. I know Brits—I mean, shit, I have one as a brother. Well, half-brother. Sort of. Long story. “And no thank you, Trace. I apologize for monopolizing Lindsey all evening, but she’s got quite the talent for design and has presented some cost effective ideas as well for this project. I’m certain that she and I can come to terms on a contract.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, turning and heading back to the kitchen. I loaded the dishwasher as noisily as possible, trying to give the idiot a clear signal that he’d worn out his fucking welcome.
At least with me.
It was damn near ten o’clock before Lindsey finally showed her ass upstairs in our suite.
“Well, that was rude,” she said, presenting her back to me so that I could unzip her.
I was stretched out on the bed, ready for some action since I’d be leaving the following afternoon on Slate’s covert mission. “What’d you mean?” I asked, frowning.
She slipped out of the dress and instantly I could feel my dick take notice.
“You were rude to Liam,” she accused, tossing me a glare. “You called him Leon two or three times, and then left to come up here an hour ago and didn’t even say goodnight to him.”
“What the fuck, Lindsey? The guy’s a douche.”
And that got me the evil eye roll.
Big time.
“Do you have any idea the kind of profit Mom and I can make if we land this deal?”
“I guess I don’t. I also didn’t know we were all that hard up for money.”
She’d gone into the bathroom, but continued yelling out to me, definitely not pleased at my ignorance of her and Sammie’s business.
“You know, Trace, you might be just a little more supportive of my career,” she yelled out, while brushing her teeth. I could tell she had a mouthful of toothpaste. “I mean, I’m expected to understand and support your work with the Bureau, even though it takes you away from me and the kids more than I’d like, but do I say a word?”
“Well…”
“Don’t you dare say that I complain about it,” she hollered, and now I could hear her rinsing.
I needed to diffuse the situation and fast, or getting pussy anytime soon wasn’t in the cards for me. “Hey I’m sorry, babe,” I yelled, and then watched as she reentered our room, still fuming a bit.
“It’s just that this is my last night home for a while, and I kinda wanted to spend it with you—alone. You know how much I miss you when I’m on assignment.” My tone was remorseful as could be, and I looked up to where she was studying me, as she tossed a nightgown on over her head.
“Oh...you’re forgiven,” she said with a sigh, climbing over me to get to her side of the bed. “I just want you to give my career some respect, because it’s not just a hobby anymore, Taz.”
I turned to look at her; my head was perched on my hand, and I gazed appreciatively at her. God, she was so fucking beautiful. It made me crazy at times just thinking about other guys looking at her, or even thinking about touching her. She’d been through so much, hell, we’d been through so much and she was mine.
I needed to be honest with her, because aside from the specifics of my assignments with the FBI, honesty is what she and I did. “Baby,” I said, “I’m all for you growing your business, believe me, I am. I just well...hell, I didn’t like the way the idiot was looking at you is all. Like you were some...some morsel that he wanted to devour.”
“Oh Taz,” she crooned, giving me a big smile, “You’re such a big dummy sometimes. Just because we happen to have a male client at the moment, doesn’t mean he has any interest in anything other than the business we’re conducting.”
“Yeah well you forget, babe, that I’m kind of an expert in dissecting people’s motives, and this guy? I don’t trust him. Not one bit.”
“Well, do you trust me?” she asked, tilting her face up just a bit in defiance.
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “Now how about we do something a bit more exertive than just talking?”
“Right back at you, Dr. Matthews,” she replied, letting a soft giggle escape. “I trust you and I love you and ole’ Leon doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” I replied, pulling her on top of me.
She burrowed her face against my neck, “Love me, Taz. Love me hard, please?”
“You’ve got it, baby girl.”
The next morning I finished up packing, making sure to put a variety of non-typical Taz clothes in my duffel. I wasn’t sure what this Wyatt’s back story was, I supposed it could be anything I decided, so I thought maybe going a little bit country might just serve me well. After all, my job was to provide transportation for the goods going back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico. Definitely, a no-frills type of assignment.
Lindsey popped in the room just as I had finished up. “Are you gonna be calling in while you’re gone?” she asked.
Shit.
My faux story didn’t actually support the fact that we’d be having no contact for the duration. “Uh...probably not, babe. This is kind of an undercover thing, you know?”
She frowned, and I could tell she was going over it in her mind. “I thought you said it was simply weeding out some agents?”
“Well, yeah, but there’s a bit more to it than that. I mean, I’m doing it undercover.”
“Why do I think there’s more to it than what you’re telling me?” she asked, staring a hole right through me.
“Babe, I’ve told you all that I can. You know the drill.”
She walked over to where I stood, and looped her arms around my neck. God, I hoped this thing was over soon.
“I’ll miss you,” she said softly. “Call if you can?”
I lowered my lips to hers, and kissed her long and hard, my teeth tugging at her pouty lower lip. “I will. Take care of my babies, you hear?”
She nodded, her face buried in my chest and, for some reason, I ached for her even though I hadn’t left yet. “I love you, Lindsey.”
She looked up at me with those magnificent green eyes, and smiled. “I love you, Trace.”
“Wyatt, darlin’, you wanting the usual, babe?”
“Yeah, hit me up, Jenny,” I said, “Takin’ a piss, be right back.”
I hit the head, checking to make sure my ankle holster was secure and checking the data output to confirm that the deal was still going as planned. Marco and I had a meeting scheduled at midnight near the border. At last, I was going to find out exactly what the high-dollar cargo was coming in through Mexico.
I’d been here almost three weeks and my credentials had served me well. It was obvious Susan (or Capri DeSantis as she was currently going by) felt completely insulated from culpability to the criminal shit she had going on. She had some top-shelf protection from somewhere.
She and her partners, mostly ex-cons, were posing as Born Again Christians under the Southern Baptist shield. They operated a church camp in order to stay under the IRS radar, as a charitable organization that operated on donations, so they didn’t have to report income.
It was a good cover for them, and it didn’t take long to figure out that most of the camp attendees had no interest in bible study. The campers were brought in by reservation only, so the hardcore bible-beaters were always waitlisted by design.
The outsiders they did allow in were couples wanting to hook up out of sight for obvious reasons: married men meeting their girlfriends, married women meeting their boyfriends; girlfriends meeting girlfriends, and boyfriends meeting boyfriends. The environment was secluded, secret and none of the camp counselors cared if no one came to the phony group sessions or nature walks posted in the social hall.
I still hadn’t broken through the corporate veil of what they were doing in totality. I knew weapons smuggling was going on, from the U.S. to Mexico and beyond. But this cargo coming in tonight was special, that much I knew. I also knew that it wasn’t of Mexican origin, from the scrambled code on the data feeds. But there had to be more for Slate to want me involved.
I’d had very little contact with the ATF Agent, Cecil, who was the gopher for this little cartel. I had met Marco just twice off site when he delivered bags of cash for me to take to the contact we used at the border for smuggling weapons out of the country. We kept our communications to a minimum and, even then, used our field cells in code.
Cecil and Marco both lived at the compound, which was located about fifteen miles outside of LaPorte in a very rural area. Marco stayed at the big sprawling ranch house that was closely guarded 24/7 while Cecil stayed in one of the outlying cabins used for camp guests. I was staying at a shithole motel about five miles away. I hadn’t yet earned the trust that would allow me inside the barbed wire fencing of the compound.
The area around the motel was sparsely populated. Mostly transients that had been part of the influx of fugitives that moved to the area after Katrina had hit New Orleans. They apparently had no inclination to return to Louisiana, still living in the temporary quarters that had been provided by Homeland Security, trailers now rusty and in general disrepair.
I made my way back to the bar where Jenny, the night bartender at this secluded dump called the ‘Crystal Pistol,’ had placed a cold bottle of beer in front of one of the many empty bar stools.
“So what you got goin’ on this weekend, Wyatt?”
“Nothing much. Got some time off so I’ll probably just hang around, maybe drive into Houston to see what trouble I can get into.”
“Yeah,” she said with a snicker, “Sure beats the hell out of this dead-ass village. Maybe I’ll join you?”
She had been flirting with me since day one. “Naw, I do my partying solo,” I replied, giving her a friendly wink.
“Whatever. Probably a manwhore anyway,” she said with a snort, wiping the bar down. She didn’t appear overly offended.
Just then, I felt the vibration of my field phone in my back jeans pocket. I pulled it out, and glanced at the text message that had just come over in code.
It was from Marco. The data feed was from a bug that had been placed in Capri’s and Natalia’s room. Yeah, they were totally in lust with one another it appeared, and made no boners about it. I guess there was something to be said for ‘pussy power’ because these two were both alpha chicks that ran a tight ship. The rest of their cartel was comprised of men that totally acted subservient to them.
Hell, it hadn’t surprised me that Susan—excuse me, I meant ‘Capri’ would be averse to fucking anyone who might support her mission. Natalia Scorpio seemed to be a different story. I couldn’t figure out why she would have settled for Capri. She seemed far superior intelligence-wise; and she carried herself with quiet authority and power. Hell, she was definitely a looker. My instincts told me that she possibly had more clout with the higher-ups than Capri. And while the average observer would perceive that it was Capri calling the shots, I had my doubts. I hadn’t totally been able to dissect her psyche yet because I was still on the fringes of the cartel.
That was about to change when I decoded the data feed. Marco indicated that somehow Cecil Pratt, the ATF Agent, had blown his cover. Capri and Natalia were both on to him, and he’d been secured in one of the cabins at the compound until they received further instructions from their superiors, whoever the fuck they were.
Mother-fuckin’ shit!
I sent a coded text back, and then threw some bills on the bar and hauled ass outta there. I went back to my room and changed into dark sweats and matching hoodie, grabbing black leather gloves, and my blade. I couldn’t risk taking the truck to the compound. I had no reason to be accessing the grounds, and it would blow my cover trying to gain entrance with the guards posted at the gate who knew who was expected and who wasn’t.
I went back out to the graveled parking lot, and quickly spotted Jenny’s beater parked off to the side of the building.
Sorry Jenny, hope you can cop another ride home.
It took me about thirty seconds to hot-wire the car, and I was quickly on the dark, lonely stretch of highway heading to the compound and hopefully getting there in time to save Cecil from a fate yet to be decided, but assuredly, not in his best interest.
I pulled Jenny’s car over into the graveled berm on the backside of the compound, right at the edge of the woods and sent a coded text to Marco. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was closer to ten minutes before I got a response in code. He had Cecil. They were heading my way. I texted back I’d be watching for them, and to look for a downed section of fencing.
I got out of the car, letting it run and jogged over to where the thick grove of trees offered some respite from any security cameras that might be within range. I hadn’t been on the compound long enough to be familiar with the setup.
I donned the leather gloves and pulled my blade out, cutting into the barbed wire and watching the sparks fly.
Fuckers. I knew it.
I had a decent space cleared by the time I heard them approach. Fuck, Marco was dragging Cecil along beside him.
“What happened?” I asked once they were within earshot.
“The head cunt caught me getting Cecil outta there,” Marco replied, out of breath. “He caught one in the shoulder.”
I helped Marco carry Cecil over to the car. We got him situated in the backseat just as I caught a glimpse of search lights not too far off in the distance.
“Come on,” I said, slamming the back passenger door shut. “They aren’t far behind and I still have my cover.”
Marco climbed in the passenger seat and I took off, heading back towards the motel.
“Are you fucking nuts, Taz?” Marco asked, as I sped down the highway. “You can’t seriously be thinking they won’t suspect you of being undercover now that our covers have been blown.”
“They’ve got no reason to suspect me,” I replied, glancing in the review mirror. “What happened with Cecil?”
“Ah, fuck. They had one of the guards toss his cabin. They found a hidden cell phone he’d been using to text his wife. Their baby is due any day. He was out when her latest text message came through letting him know her water had broken. Since he was supposed to be an ex-con with no ties, they figured it out.”
“Damn.”
“Hey, I fucked up, man. I’m sorry,” Cecil called out from the backseat. “It’s our first, you know?”
“Just stay calm,” Marco instructed brusquely. “We gotta get him to an ER wherever the fuck we can find one.”
I pulled over into the parking lot by the bar. “Listen, take him into LaPorte, they have a hospital there. Lose this car while you’re at it.”
“What the hell?” Marco asked, giving me a glare. “You’re not planning on going back to the compound are you?”
I put the car in ‘park’ and turned to Marco. “You bet your ass I am. I’m scheduled to have my truck there at twenty-three hundred hours to pick you up and head to the border for the exchange. This is the only chance we’ve got at finding out why what’s coming in is so important, and where it’s going.”
“Taz, man, those bitches aren’t stupid. Once they made Cecil, they fucking ordered a lockdown. Everyone’s room and cabin was searched. All of the weapons they issued to us were confiscated until they got instructions from headquarters. I mean, fuck, we’re lucky we both made it outta there.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m betting I’m smarter. Besides, I haven’t spent the last few weeks in this hell hole to run off like some pussy because you guys blew your covers.”
“Now wait one fucking minute,” Marco said, his voice loud and clearly pissed, “I followed protocol here and you damn well know it! Another agent was in imminent danger. I had to do what I did.”
“Hey, I’m not disputing that at all, man,” I answered, opening the door and getting out. “But I still have my cover, and I’m gonna make the best of it. Once you get him to the hospital, get in touch with Special Agent Eric Slater at Quantico. Let him know what went down. No one else though, Marco. Only him.”
He nodded. “Yeah, alright. Watch yourself, Taz.”
At exactly eleven p.m. I was in my truck, pulled up to the guard shack announcing that I was scheduled to meet Marco Trevani. The guard got on his phone and, within a minute, I was cleared to enter the compound. I drove around to the main house and pulled up into the parking space next to the side entrance.
Two minutes later, the passenger door opened at the same time I heard the back panel door of the truck being rolled up.
“What the?” I started to ask when Capri quickly climbed into the passenger seat, pointing a Beretta at me. “Just a precaution, Mr. Greenlee,” she said. “We’ve had a bit of a disruption here this evening.”
“Where’s Marco?” I asked, looking confused.
“He, unfortunately, was part of the disruption. I need you to give me your weapon.”
“Why?” I asked, “Is the deal off?”
“Your deal might be off if you don’t comply within thirty seconds,” she said with a hiss.
“Okay, okay,” I replied, “Cool your jets, darlin’.” I reached under my jacket and pulled the 9mm pistol they had issued to me when I first arrived. “Here you go,” I said, handing it over to her. “Just so you know, I’m not sure I want to make this trip across the border without some form of protection. You may want to find someone else.”
“No worries, Wyatt,” she crooned. “I’m ambidextrous. I’ll have your back during the transaction.”
I heard the roll-down panel slam shut from the back. One of the guards came around to her side, giving her the ‘all-clear’ signal. “We can be on our way now, Mr. Greenlee,” she said, looking over at me. We just needed to make sure there wasn’t any hidden cargo in the truck.”
I shrugged. “Don’t know what the hell went down here, lady. All I’m looking to do is make some money so I can retire to Costa Rica. Don’t want any drama, hear?”
