Unsurprisingly Complicated

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Can we promise something to each other?” My question appears to appease her a bit.

  A faint mumble makes it through.

  “That we’ll remain friends no matter what happens.” I hold her tighter. “You’re the one person I trust the most.” I kiss her, not waiting for an answer. A sweet, slow kiss with no promises of a long future, but a great tomorrow. Our lips move against each other; my mouth savors her, memorizes the softness and taste of hers.

  “I love you, Mase,” she whispers between kisses. “I love you like I’ve never loved before, and I will as long as you let me. Please take me to bed.”

  I comply. Her words wash away the fear I harbored that I may be losing her.

  Drenched in sweat after finishing a complete workout, I head for the showers. I turn the water on full blast, undress, and step into the shower. The cold needles of water wash away the long day. Thinking about what my next move should be, I come up empty. Most of the projects the company had taken in the past months are being handled by my employees. I oversee what happens with each mission or installation while designing new gadgets or games. It’s the end of August and the only exciting thing to happen this summer had been heading to the stupid islands outside Seattle every weekend.

  Earlier today, Kowalski and I had a conference call with agents Bradford and Grennaldi to finish our small project with them. In the last three months, we have gathered enough information for them to control or terminate the cartel. Whatever their plans are, they’ve decided not to use us. There weren’t any big thrilling projects awaiting, and I needed one to shake up my life. My sedentary routine consisted of an eight to five job, heading back to Ainse’s house for dinner, and hanging out with her until we head to bed. Nothing exciting anymore. Each day that itch to make a move, visit another country, or get away grows. A month or two away would pacify it. Six months might help eliminate the symptoms.

  I wash my hair, scrub my body, and rinse before heading to the locker room to get dressed. As I buckle my belt, Kowalski waltzes in with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “You okay with this?” Kowalski questions. I cock my head, glancing at him. “Not going after the cartel?”

  “Yeah.” His question floors me, because in the past when I took a case like this, I made sure that I finished it. We have everything in place to shut them down ourselves, and yet when they said ‘thank you that’ll be all,’ I sent them the final invoice. “I’d rather not deal with the cleaning process. We’re security consultants, and I prefer to focus our resources on that.”

  “So where next?” Ironic how he asks me about what I’ve been thinking since I moved the file of this operation to the archives. “I can use some downtime with the wife. We believe it’s time to start a family, just like Wings did.”

  His questions are making that itch grow and before I make a rash decision, I decide to leave. There’s so much going on, my best friend is going to be a father next year, and now Karl plans on following his steps. Dad’s dating, and I’ve been with the same girl since last May.

  “For now, I’m heading home,” I announce closing my gym bag. “Take a few days off, we’ll reconvene next week.”

  “Home?” he calls out as I rush out of the locker room.

  It isn’t as if Ainse’s house is my home, but it’s the place I’ve stayed every night for the past few months. The idea of leasing an apartment close by is swirling around my head. As I remodeled my office, the contractor took down the room I used to have. Which means that for the past month, I technically haven’t had a place to live or stay—except my girlfriend’s home.

  My father was right, my commitment issues are so big, I can’t think of signing a lease. In all my adult life, I’ve never owned or rented a place to call mine.

  I pivot around and find Kowalski watching me. He has something stuck and is about to spill it. I warn him with the typical glare to fuck off.

  “Whatever, dude. Only know that she’s good for you,” he comments, and his attention goes back to his clothing. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  Whatever he says or means isn’t important. I take the stairs down to the parking garage, place my things in the trunk, and drive away. In less than ten minutes, I turn left onto her street and notice the lights in her parents’ home are on. Great, the Deckers are in town. There’s no doubt in my mind that my father came along. These past months I’ve seen more of Dad than I had since high school. I push the controller that opens the garage door and glide my car next to Eleanor. Typically, Ainse comes out to greet me. Not today. Alarmed, I push my way inside the house and scan the mud room, pass through it to the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, and I don’t see any movement. There’s no food cooking on the stove-top or the kitchen nook set for us to have dinner.

  “Nine,” I call out but there’s no answer. “Beautiful, where are you?”

  Heading to the foyer, I spot a note on the key bowl.

  Ten,

  I’m next door—at my parents.

  Nine

  Mase: Give me a few minutes and I’ll head to your parents to pick you up.

  J-9: Is it okay if we have dinner with them? It’s that or sandwiches tonight.

  Mase: Yes, but can we leave early?

  J-9: Oh yeah! Planning on it. If you behave, you can use the silk ribbons *winks*

  Mase: I’m only hungry for you.

  The urgent knocking on the main door stops me in the middle of the staircase. Thinking Ainse forgot her keys and that she decided to come over, I swing the door open. Instead of the sweet face I love to wake up to every morning, I find her parents on the other side. Well, there goes the silk ribbon idea.

  “I received a call earlier today from Porter,” Chris starts without any preamble making his way inside the house. My eyes follow him as I listen. “Mason, he asked for your help. As we knew before, he’s in a big pile of shit.”

  Before I can state the obvious, that this isn’t my problem, Gabe steps inside the house right behind Chris.

  “But then we received another phone call. Only a few minutes ago,” he says. “An electronically distorted voice demanding us to replace all the merchandise, arms and shit they lost when the FBI broke into Ainsley’s house or they’ll kill Porter and come after us.”

  “How much money did they ask for, and what are the terms?” I question, and both open their eyes wide and look at each other. “Did they tell you when, where, or how to get in touch with them when you have the money?”

  “They gave us forty-eight hours to come up with the sum. They said we should know, as we helped the police apprehend them,” Gabe informs me. “It has to be cash. We can’t call the police. They said that if we fail, they’ll kill Porter and come after us. I remained quiet and listened to what they had to say. The line went dead before I could ask anything.”

  His words launch like a missile that explodes my insides. My breathing is regulated by the adrenaline rushing through my body. This can’t be happening. My girlfriend and her family are in the line of fire. They know her name and how to find her. Cold sweat runs down my spine. The idea of blowing them off, and consequently Porter, is no longer possible. My priority is Ainse. Then the Deckers. Moving all of them to a secure location is the first order of business, then I can decide what to do with Porter. Like not give a rat’s ass about Porter and find his body in a couple of days.

  “Does the helipad at the compound still work?” Dad and a few of my men can keep an eye on them while I search for Porter.

  “We expanded it. Now we have a runway for small planes and jets,” Chris informs me. “We own a jet, but finding a pilot at this time of night isn’t easy.”

  That solves one of the many problems I might encounter in the process of rescuing the asshole. Wings can fly them.

  “Let me make a few calls.” They both follow me to the office while I speak what’s on my mind. “We have to scout around the area to make sure no one is watching you—us.” I send an email to Wings and Kowalski. One to g
et ready to take off tonight, and the other to set up a team that should search the perimeter around the house to ensure that no one is watching the Deckers.

  I swear under my breath, trying to figure out a way to locate Porter. Rounding up the cartel is easy. The FBI and DEA’s policies and protocols can kiss my ass.

  “Where are MJ and JC?”

  “At home with Ainse,” Gabe responds.

  “Do they know?” They shake their heads.

  “You all have to trust me and follow my lead. This is my game, and I’ve played it enough times.” I hate this speech. “Porter isn’t my priority, and I doubt I’ll be able to save him. You have to understand that most of these groups shoot and never second guess. They only ask questions, but they like to torture in the process. And they prefer to make an example of people who try to take advantage of them. Think of them as a casino—the house never loses.”

  “Translation?” Gabe gives me a quizzical look while Chris squeezes his shoulder. “We’re all in danger?”

  “There’s no way for me to answer that yet,” I lie. Yes, they’re in danger. “I’m planning on taking preventive measures. Either way, you have us—Dad and I. He’s never failed, Chris, and Dad gave me the foundation to succeed.”

  Kowalski sends a text announcing that he’s on his way to check the area with two other men. I suggest we go back to their house while I continue working on a plan. A plan which includes asking my girlfriend specifics about her ex. My back muscles tense, and I doubt they’ll relax until everything is squared up again. Or maybe when I’m on a plane toward another project and my life makes sense once more.

  Ainse’s brows furrow inward. “Porter’s habits?” Her shoulders slump, glare closing in on me. My girl isn’t happy.

  “Look, dude, he’s our friend, but we stopped hanging out with him long ago.” JC takes over and walks to where Nine stands to hold her hand. “MJ and I didn’t like the company he kept and his habits. We tried not to take sides when AJ and Porter broke up, but…”

  “Things were never the same,” MJ takes over and suddenly, I realize that they’re guarding my girlfriend. “We don’t drink the way he did or used drugs. Yes, I get wasted once in a while, and I’ve tried pot a couple of times, but who hasn’t?”

  “Me,” Ainse informs him.

  “Yeah, but you’re boring, little sister,” JC exclaims smirking at her. “We, the normals, have experimented with a few things now and then. Kendrick not only experimented, he mastered everything that he could get his hands on. I have no idea where, how, or who he got his shit from. Or where he would hide. If I knew, I’d have told you when he attacked my sister.”

  “Neither my brothers or I have a fucking idea about his life.” Nine’s raw words don’t sit well in my chest. “Is there a good explanation behind these series of questions? Because honestly, you’re starting to piss me off, Mason.”

  No, she is upset already—maybe hurt.

  The buzzing sound of an upcoming text saves me for a few seconds while I decide how to tell her what’s going on without freaking her out. Maybe I’m not giving her credit, and she won’t freak out. Damn, for the first time in my life I can’t be objective.

  Kowalski: We’re searching the area. I’ll text you once we’re done with the sweep.

  Dad: I’m heading to the Decker’s place. I have a few details in place at the compound.

  Mason: We’ll be ready.

  “Yes, there’s a reason, Nine.” I finally answer her question, take a few steps, and grab her hand, pulling her toward me, hugging her tight. I release my tight grip enough so we can look at each other. “The same guys who occupied the Austin house kidnaped the ass—Porter. Your parents and possibly the three of you are in danger, too. I want to trace everything, from the person who hooked him up with this group to the group itself. I have the latter. Look, I’m being rational and using logic because if I don’t, I’ll put you in danger.”

  I rake my hair with both hands. “My girlfriend is being targeted, Nine. This is fucking killing me.”

  The tension eases out of her back, and the extra stress I carried follows right behind. They listened to everything I had to say and though they worry, they don’t make a big scene.

  “Thank you for telling us,” Nine says smiling at me, the shine in her eyes hide through a veil of weariness. “Do you have a plan in place?”

  “Working on it, and part of it is sending you and your family to the compound.” I look around the room as I brief them on what little I’ve come up with. “As soon as Wings gives me the green light, we’re heading to the hangar. Dad’s coming over. He’s going to stay with you, and we already have a few security details on standby. I’ll find Porter and save his ass.”

  Gabe and Chris leave the room; they want to pack their electronics before leaving. I ask Kowalski to send over a man to cover MJ and JC so they, too, can head over to pack a few things at their place.

  “Let’s go home,” I suggest. “You need to pack, too.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Her question astounds me. Ainse lets a ragged breath. “You hate him and don’t really give a rat’s ass about him. Wouldn’t it be logical if you assign someone to rescue him?”

  “You worried about him… or me?”

  Ainse rolls her lips in, shakes her head and walks toward the door. I follow behind like a puppy waiting for a bone.

  “At this point you should know that I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before,” Ainse says, turning around and shaking her head. “I don’t love him. Yes, I worry. If I didn’t know about the shit you’re facing, it’d be different.”

  The smile she draws eases my entire body. I love when she smiles, but when she does it for me it makes me forget the rest of the world.

  “Promise you’ll be safe,” she mumbles while chewing her lip.

  “Always,” I promise as I always do.

  Ainse closes the door behind us, links her index fingers to my belt loops, and pulls me to her.

  “Does that plan of yours have a five to ten minute margin of error?” The left corner of her lip curls as her eyes fill with a coat of hazy lust. “Because you can cash in a few AJ points. You know, to…”

  “I always have time for AJ points, Nine.” I lift my brows a couple of times, tilting my head toward the staircase that takes us to her magical room. “Let’s head to the bedroom. The idea of unwrapping today’s outfit and find out what’s under that innocent teacher attire can’t wait any longer. Where are the silk ribbons?” I dip my head, our lips meet just as our bodies interlace, and I carry her to our room.

  Last night, after we dropped the Deckers and Dad at the compound, we traveled to El Paso, Texas. A small town bordering with Chihuahua, one of the Mexican states where there are too many cartels.

  Agent Bradford waits for us at a café right in the heart of downtown El Paso, a place where anyone can get lost in the crowd on a Friday morning.

  “My inside guy confirmed that they have the singer.” He doesn’t greet us. “He’s in an abandoned house across the border, in Ciudad Juarez. They plan to juice him to regain their financial strength.”

  I look at Kowalski, who gives me a side nod, the cue that we should do what we planned.

  “Our best bet is to end them now. We have all the information. I’m being paid to rescue Porter Kendrick,” I lie. “I’ll do it with or without your help.”

  “You’re in luck. Tonight they’re selling some merchandise across the border. If you can spare a man or two for tonight’s operation.” One operation that will only weaken them, not finish them. “They’ll be wrapped up in the sale and have little manpower while you rescue the singer.”

  Too easy…

  “What’s the catch?” I concentrate on his expression and try to read it. “What are we stopping?”

  “The trafficking of meth, guns—high caliber guns.” His Adam’s apple bobs slowly. “We need to stop them, but if we have a few more men with us, the operation will succeed. Once the covers of my
men are exposed there won’t be any other chances.”

  Looking at Kowalski’s brown eyes for confirmation, we agree to help with their operation as long as they help us with our mission. “I’ll go as long as we eliminate them, not just weaken them.” I don’t give agent Bradford any leeway to negotiate.

  However, I don’t like where things are heading. We have nine hours to gather men for the operation, run through their plan, and come up with a new one. Certainly modify what the DEA and FBI planned, or make the executive decision and leave Porter to his fatal death.

  I drive through a residential area in Ciudad Juarez. A small town across the border from El Paso. Wings flew us to the other side of the border where Bradford said Porter is being held captive. The white van where Kowalski and two other units wait remains parked across the street from the unfinished building that is surrounded by a wire fence with a big sign.

  No pase (Do not trespass)

  Propiedad Privada (Private Property)

  The two lots behind the property are empty, the houses next door have a for sale sign. The rest of the block doesn’t match with this area, but I guess new construction developments tend to be uneven until everything is built. While scouting the area, I didn’t find any pedestrians along the sidewalks or cars parked outside the already built homes nearby. A brand new ghost town.

  The DEA and FBI don’t know our real plan, but they agreed to pay for the cost of our help. A few of my well-trained men are helping them directly; the ones I trust will work well even under stupid orders. Bradford believes I’ll be there, but by the time they find out that we had other plans, I should be on a plane out of here, heading to Seattle. Looking at my watch, I remind myself that we have to wait two more minutes before we can begin the operation.

  “Ready when you are,” Kowalski calls through the communicator.

  Things roll in perfect sequence. I spot the van leaving the premises. Only the navy blue sedan I’m in remains in the area. I scan my surroundings for the third time, confirming that I didn’t miss any detail. It’d be tragic to find pedestrians or some bystanders around as the sun sets. The coast is clear. I strap my backpack on top of the bullet proof jacket.