“An ordeal? What kind of ordeal? Is she hurt?” Odessa asked, looking at the slumped form of the woman hanging over Gunther’s shoulder.
“Only her pride,” Yuńior replied. “If I may ask a favor of you both - please, in front of Melissa, do not speak of your adventures. She believed herself to be a member of your team and walked into a very dangerous operation headed up by Tito Montoya.”
“Holy shit, Tito Montoya!” Saxton said. “Is he what happened to your lip?”
“Sí, it was a very long night, but the children are safe on their way to Juchitan, where they will flourish,” Yuńior said. “Saxton the Blakemore, I offer you my appreciation for the quick thinking and fast moves in sending in this Grade A team to assist in the situation, but I must ask again for one more favor.”
“What do you need?” Saxton asked as he offered the men cool drinks in the large, spacious kitchen.
“Melissa will finish at the university at the end of the semester with a baccalaureate, I believe is the American term. She will require a job in an office behind a desk where she can assist on paper in the aid of others,” Yuńior explained. “Do you have such a position or one which may be created for her employment?”
The drug had worn off a while ago, and a fuzzy-brained Melissa began to struggle against Gunther, demanding he put her down. She pretended to still be sleeping to overhear what the men would say. She heard clearly what Yuńior had said. He was trying to get rid of her, and she wasn’t going away that easily.
“Ed, you’re trying to break up with me,” she squalled, flopping down in the floor like a child. Her bottom lip poking out in defense of her hurt.
“Melissa, I have to let you go,” Yuńior told her, turning to face the woman.
“You said you loved me, and we’d have this life together,” she said. “Now, you’re making him give me an office job so when you come to the ranch with your family, you won’t have to see me anymore. You’re a liar! You don’t love me.”
Yuńior, having enough of her antics, took a seat on the floor in front of her. In his hands, he held her fingertips, gently squeezing the tips to ensure he had her attention. The blue eyes he loved staring into as he brought her to the heights of pleasure moved him still, gazing up at him, and the words wouldn’t be easy no matter how he tried to say them.
“Baby, I do love you,” he started, “and you represent all the good and optimism lacking in this cold world. The light that shines from you has guided me through my darkest nights and abysmal days. It would be wholly unfair of me to hold on to you. I have to let you go so another may love you and give you the family you deserve with a three-bedroom home with a brilliant white fence interlaced with colorful annual flowers. I can almost see the yappy little dog, and blue-eyed children calling for you after school. You deserve all of those things. A life with me is not good for a gentle spirit such as yourself. I can only bring death to your door.”
“Ed, I love you. It doesn’t matter. I want a life with you,” she cried, her bottom lip quivering.
“We can’t be together, Melissa,” he told her, squeezing her fingers again. “The man who owned that ship is coming for me. If he thinks we are together, he will come for you and your family. It’s safer this way. I padded your accounts and paid off the credit cards so you may have a fresh start. Sell the condo if you want to begin again. You must let me go.”
“The man...he’s coming for you?”
“Yes. Baby, I have to get home and warn my father and prepare for the war this will bring,” Yuńior said. “You did a good thing tonight, and I thank you, but my love is deep enough to want you to be safe, and if that means letting you go, I’m going to do just that, for you.”
“Oh, Ed,” she said, crawling to her knees and giving him a slobbery wet kiss on his lips, with loud smacking sounds. He pushed her away gently, his eyes on Odessa.
“Tía, please allow her to rest and call for a car to take her home later in the evening,” Yuńior said, helping Melissa to her feet.
She gave him one last embrace as she let go, following Odessa up the stairs. Melissa blew a kiss at him as he nodded and placed his hand on the back of a seat when she reached the top landing on the stairs. He turned around and Stop, Mann, and Yield who all pretended to be doing anything but watching the young man. Yuńior sighed loudly.
“Shit, I’m not ready to be married,” Yuńior grunted, flopping down in the seat.
“Oh yes you are,” Saxton said, laughing. “And I thought Andres was the smooth one!”
Mr. Yield scratched his head. “So, you’re not going to tell her about Irena?”
Saxton piped up, “Who’s Irena?’
“The one waiting for me at home to sign the contract of betrothal,” Yuńior said, taking out his phone. He flipped through a few photos and showed the image of the woman who was currently sitting with his stepmother and wondering if he was coming back. “This is Irena.”
“You lucky cuss,” Mr. Mann said.
“What is this cuss? Are you saying I’m profane?” Yuńior asked, his face showing emotion.
“No, it means that you’re very fortunate to have such a lovely young woman to marry,” Yield said. “What is she like?”
“She listens, which is a plus,” Yuńior said, breaking into laughter. “That one up there, whew- Jesus son of Mary- she aged me 10 years on this night. I feel as if I need a drink.”
“I have something,” Saxton said.
“No. No and No!” Yuñior replied. “Gentlemen, do not accept a drink or a bowl of chili from this man. My father had a drink with Bobby Ray the Blakemore and was found the next morning in this kitchen butt ass naked making eggs with his snake swinging in the wind.”
“Yeah, that was funny,” Saxton said.
“Not to your mother,” Yuńior replied, looking at his watch. “I must leave. There is a wedding contract waiting for my signature, an angry father I must face, and the Cartel to answer to for my actions.”
Saxton asked, “What in the world did you do?”
“Let’s see, I personally killed about 10 men. My therapists will more than likely charge me double to work through that issue. I poisoned about 20 others with Abuelita Patsy’s chili, took about 200 kids from a child smuggler, which on the low end was a million five, and cut up Tito Montoya with my blade,” Yuńior said. “Oh yeah, these guys took out a few of Tito’s right-hand men as well, but the upside is that I gave Tito the anti-venom, so he’s probably still twitching and shitting himself. Plus, I just sent 200 kids to a village in Mexico, which is totally going to unbalance the economic structure of the town.”
“Your father is going to be pissed,” Saxton said.
“This is true,” Yuńior said, looking back at the men. “But damn, that was a lot of fun for 32 hours. I get it now. Gentlemen, I must depart!”
He passed each of them a card as he had Lizzie. “You each get to use it one time. Use it wisely,” he said, giving Yield his last. “Mi amigo, you have become my friend. I shall see you again soon.”
“No, you don’t need to do that,” Mr. Yield said.
“Do not worry, my friend. I shall surprise you with a visit and come to dinner,” Yuñior said with a wink. “Gunther, vamanos, we ride.”
He slipped out the backdoor as easily as he had walked in, leaving behind a roomful of open mouths. Saxton went to the liquor cabinet and came back with a bottle of Scotch and four glasses. They needed a drink.
“What the fuck just happened?” Mr. Yield asked.
“It looks like you’ve made a friend,” Saxton said.
“Why me? I did what you asked, I went in and found him,” Mr. Yield said. “I brought him here in one piece. Just pay me so I can go home. I don’t need any more friends and definitely not his little psycho ass. Man, did you guys see him in that galley, serving up chili and he sounded just like an undocumented worker at the local Hash Hut?”
“No, I was too busy being shocked and awed when he killed those men with a Ninja star,” Mr. Mann s
aid. “I’ve seen it in movies, but never thought it could happen in real life, and the joker collected his stars on the way out the door.”
“Uh-uh,” Mr. Stop said, “Yield stood beside him and handed him a weapon that he used to shoot two people without taking his eyes off that red-eyeball Tito dude. Plus, he swung down off that ship’s bow on a rope with no gloves on his hands like some kind of South American Tarzan ninja.”
“Don’t even start, either of you,” Yield said. “He flicked a finger and it killed someone. I didn’t see what he did with his right hand and, Stop, you fired off a round without a comment, based on his slightest movement. Shit, I hate to even think what his Dad is like. Yunior’s fucking scary, and you guys are the contract killers. You aren’t even half as scary as him. All the accents. He even did a Black dude’s voice!”
Mr. Mann echoed what Yuńior had spoken about Melissa, adding, “I kid you not, he sounded like a 65-year-old Black man who spent his life working in a factory washing liquor bottles! What did he say, That bitch’ll get a mufacka killed!”
Saxton couldn’t stop laughing. The Technicians didn’t find humor in any of it. He poured them another round as they waited for his brother’s plane to return.
“Honestly, gentlemen, I’ve never heard that kid talk that much in four years,” Saxton said, looking to move the conversation forward about payment and travel back to their homes.
“You can either fly commercial or wait for the plane to come back from Sacramento,” Saxton said, “but before you go, allow me to tell you the story about my relationship with his father, who is now my best friend, which is funny in itself considering it started out with him hiring people to kill me and my wife Odessa.”
“That was your wife?” Mr. Stop asked.
“Yes, and her sister is married to Yuńior’s father, whom Eduardo also came to Texas to kill but fell in love with,” Saxton said, still chuckling.
“This I gotta hear,” Mr. Stop said. “Hey is there a bowl of that chili? I have to try it, just to add to the rest of this story when I get home to my new house.”
He said that part with an arched eyebrow at Saxton. Mr. Yield couldn’t believe the man still wanted to eat, least of all a bowl of chili that disabled 20 healthy men.
“Don’t worry, the foundation was poured yesterday, the house is on its way, and it will arrive on Friday,” Saxton said.
“Seriously? I hope it has a garden tub,” Mr. Stop said, happily looking at the image.
Saxton rose from the table to collect his tablet, pulling up the photo of the house and showing it to him. Mr. Stop couldn’t believe his eyes, “Ooh, a formal dining room, with an eat-in kitchen, what’s this, an office?”
He also returned to two other envelopes, handing one to Mann and the other to Yield saying, “The funds have been transferred to your accounts, per the agreement.”
Mr. Yield stood up with his envelope. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to head out and get home to my family. I promised I’d be back by Friday.”
“You sure, Mr. Yield? You’re welcome to stay the night, ride horses in the morning, and we have an indoor pool, shooting range, and a garage full of cars if you dig that kind of thing,” Saxton said.
“Not really,” Mr. Yield said. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Offering a handshake, he nodded to the technicians at the table. Mr. Mann stood up. “Wait up, Yield, I’m heading out with you. Blakemore, thank you for the job and the drink, but don’t ever call me again or set a helicopter in my front yard,” Mann said.
“I did send a man over to help with the rabbit problem and seal in your garden,” Saxton said.
“The fuck? How did you get past my security system?” Mann wanted to know.
“Yeah, how the hell did you hack my kid’s toy phone?” Mr. Stop asked.
“Does anyone want to hear the damned story about how Eduardo tried to kill all of us?” Saxton asked.
“No!” they all said in unison. It was Mr. Yield who spoke up for the group. “What you’ve done is highly irregular. Beauty is going to have our asses for taking on a freelance gig. Plus, you’ve jeopardized our identities in having us come face to face with the likes of Tito Montoya. We don’t have billions of dollars to hold off these men. Each day for us is looking over our shoulders. Now this shit.”
Saxton shook his head. “Y’all have missed the point.”
“And what is the fucking point other than Stop getting a new house and me taking my kid to Disney World and not worrying about blowing the bank?”
“Each of you hold the business card of The Bocaracá,” Saxton said. “Anyone or anything comes your way, flash the card. Your problem is solved. Also, and just so we are clear, I’ve spoken with Beauty. You did me a solid which means won’t nobody fuck with you. My reach is deeper than my pockets and doing me a favor means you have a second opportunity to make a call when you’re in need. I’ll be there, just like you were when I called.”
“Well, that makes me feel better,” Mr. Mann said, “but I’m still taking my ass home.”
“I’m not,” Mr. Stop said, sitting down. “I’m going to swim in the indoor pool, drive one of those fancy cars, have a bowl of chili, and take me long hot bath in one of these big ass tubs in this giant damned mansion. I’m going to ring the little gold bell and have Jeeves bring be a bowl of ice-cream just before midnight as I slip into a pair of silk guest pajamas and go to bed.”
“Seriously, dude?” Mr. Mann said as he looked back to see Mr. Yield had left. He would need to run to catch up and gave a mock salute to Saxton on his way out the door. In the back of the Suburban, the nameless driver took them to the Houston Airport. Yield’s lips were tight as they entered the terminal, but Mr. Mann stopped him. “Hey, you’re in a rush to get away. I’ve got questions, many stemming from Stop. What is up with that dude?”
“He lives in what is really a glorified sod house that his wife Judy built with her own two hands,” Yield told him. “Poor Stop has been working on the damned thing from day one. It has a tiny tub I’m sure he doesn’t fit in with a shower head that’s too low to rinse off his body, and his wife can’t cook worth a shit. So, he’s pretty much going to enjoy the high life while he can.”
“And you? What’s your story?”
“I have a wonderful wife and a very smart son who’ve become my world,” Yield said. “We walked into something nasty last night and there is no way we aren’t coming out of that field tracking some shit back into our homes. The faster we put distance between ourselves, the Blakemore and the Delgados, the better. I’ve seen what these people do. I don’t want any part of it.”
“Tracking,” Mr. Mann said, “but how did he know so much about us all? How was he able to see us, my yard, bypass my security and all that? Stop said he hacked his kid’s toy phone? Explain that shit.”
“He used to be CIA,” Yield said. “His wife’s mother was one of the lead interrogators for the Agency. That wife of his is gun happy and likes to shoot people and then there’s Delgado.”
“Seem like it’s a good thing making a friend in his son,” Mann said, dodging the afternoon crowd in the airport.
“Some friends a man really doesn’t need,” Yield said.
“What about me? Will you call me friend?”
“Dunno, whaddya want?” Yield asked.
“I got a boy, about seven, who wants to go to Disneyworld, but my other son is too small to ride the stuff he wants,” Mann said. “It would be kind of cool, if me and my wife could be in Florida at Disneyworld about the same time you bring your kid.”
Yield thought about it for a minute. Chad could use some more friends. He was doing okay at school, but he really hadn’t made that connection, not like the one he had as a kid with Gabriel Neary. A friendship that was still strong to this day. Maybe having a friend who had a Dad who did a job similar to his own would help the boys bond.
“August the 13th,” he said. “We’ll be at Disneyworld. We’re staying at the Contempor
ary Resort, the one with the monorail to the park. We arrive on the 12th, leave on the 17th.”
“Cool, see you there,” Mann said. “Should I text you my number?”
“Dude, we aren’t dating,” Mr. Yield said, “I’ll find you. That’s my specialty.” He said the words low before disappearing into the throng of people. Mann stood still for a moment, watching the bodies milling about wondering how such a large man, with a big scar could blend in so effortlessly. The night had provided a few interesting tidbits of information on the Blakemores and the Delgados.
“Yeah, don’t want to track none of that shit back into my house,” he said, going to the counter to check in his rifle. Mr. Mann was ready to go home.
Chapter Eleven – The Boracara Returns
6 AM, AUGUST 9, 2019
Weary legs carried him into the back door of the house as he tried to creep his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Eduardo Delgado sat on the edge of his son’s bed as if he’d taken the family car and stayed out all night. Yuñior was in no mood for an argument or to be commanded or yelled at after the last 48 hours of his life. Instead, he took a different tack.
“Papa, if you had a ring, this is where I would genuflect and kiss it,” Yuńior said. “I acted on emotion, as you have taught me not to do. I may have inadvertently started a war between you and Tito Montoya, but I allowed him to live. Ten maybe 12 of his men I killed. Twenty others I fed Señora Patsy’s chili and one other I poisoned with my knife all in the effort to save 200 kids from being trafficked by those vile, dishonorable men who planned to use the older girls as entertainment during the voyage. It disgusted me so I acted. If this means I will have to do penance, marry someone’s chubby daughter, or work the fields myself, then so I shall.”
Eduardo rose to his feet. Yuńior didn’t flinch, not knowing whether his face would meet his father’s fist or if he would be cursed up one side and down the other. However, Eduardo embraced him.
A soft kiss was planted on the side of his face.
Killers Page 11
