“Good Lord, woman, get off me!” His mouth uttered the words, but his body craved her staying. His hands had a mind of their own as they slid down her very tiny waist and rested upon her cute-as-a-button, very firm butt cheeks. Sweaty palms rustled against the fabric of the cotton bloomers, while the heat of her seeped through his boxers setting him afire.
“I’m sorry. I just feel safer sleeping on top of you.”
“Well, you are not! You have no idea of the amount of danger you are in,” he told her as he roughly chucked her onto the mattress. For the first time, since they had met, he saw a chink in her armor, as she turned her back to him to hide her tears. Saxton knew he was many things, but a total ass had not been added to his resume. He pulled her into his arms and rolled to his back, allowing her to use his chest as her pillow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you are killing me.”
She clung to him as the tears of fear, frustration and a tinge of never making it out of here alive took over, “I don’t mean to be such a pain in the ass, but I really don’t want to die, or be someone’s prisoner, or anything worse.”
“I know, Baby,” he told her as he rubbed her back and arms, trying to assuage her fears, “I told you, I will get you home safely.”
“I don’t want to keep putting you in such an awkward position either, I just feel safe with you, and you know, the enemy I know kind of thing.” Saxton understood, not necessarily agreeing with her logic, but he understood.
“Odessa, I am an extremely heterosexual man, and not being able to be with you,” he planted a small kiss against her temple, “is wearing me a little thin and making me really tense.”
She looked up at him from the cocoon he had created for her with his arms, “Well, you get me home, maybe you and I can go on a real date sometime.”
He looked at her with sheer amazement on his face, “A date, my ass! When I show up, I’m coming for my wedding night!”
She jokingly added, “Sure thing, as long as our wedding night is in a Paris hotel room, that is overlooking the Champs-Élysées or the Sienne.”
“Deal,” he told her as he used his thumb to raise her chin and kissed her gently, “I will have you home tomorrow night and in Paris soon after.”
Saxton was overcome by an uneasy feeling as they headed down the stairs to join the makeshift family for dinner. He asked Odessa to wait in the kitchen as he entered the dining room and did not see Rentería seated at the table. The second thing he noticed was wrong was the American business man was gone as well as the scientist. He slipped back around the corner, grabbed two bottles of water and took the back stairs up to his room. Odessa’s clothing had been washed and returned, “Quickly, put those on,” he told her as he threw a tee shirt over the camera.
He opened his closet door, pushed his clothing aside to press a button which opened a false door. In her hands he placed a bottle of water, a flashlight and his loaded, well-used Baretta Nano. “Do you know how to use this?” She hit the magazine release, dropped out the clip, check the rounds, and snapped the clip back in place. Pulling back the mechanism, she seated a round in the chamber, and nodded. Confident Odessa knew how to handle the weapon, Saxton nodded he was impressed and gave her directions.
“Follow the tunnel to the barn, find the white Jeep Cherokee and wait inside on the back floor. The interior lights are disabled, so it will not alert anyone. Stay as quiet as you can.” Odessa shook her head yes, and before letting her go, he pulled her in quickly for a hard kiss on the lips.
She swatted at spider webs and remained as quiet as possible, reaching the barn within minutes. She lowered her torso and made her way across the open space between the house and barn and slipped in through the side door. There were noises and cries from the structure as she made her way through the crack in the rear of the building. Her breath caught as she witnessed two of Rentería’s men taking turns with one of the young women of the whorehouse. It was just like these cheap bastards to not want to pay for the services provided for their convenience! She took a moment to assess the entire situation and noticed the barn was actually the living quarters for the women employed to take care of the men.
The smell was repulsive. When the men had their fill, they threw the woman back into one of the make shift cells. This was no way for anyone to live. Her Spanish was rusty, but she understood one of the guards saying he was headed to the bathroom, which left only the one. She could handle one.
It took her less than three minutes to knock him unconscious, take the keys and free the 50 women. One of the ladies spoke English as well as Spanish. She translated Odessa’s words and help arm the ladies with everything she could find from pitch forks, hammers, tools, and anything that would serve as a weapon. As quietly as she entered the barn, they exited the same way, entering the tunnel, and coming back into the house. Each understood they had to fight if they wanted to live. This may not have been part of Saxton’s plan, but shit changes.
The upstairs hallway was clear as she took them around the side and down the back stairwell through the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how they were going to sneak up on anyone, considering how the smell of the women was arriving sixteen steps ahead of them. She rounded the kitchen to see Saxton, on his knees in handcuffs, receiving blows to the face from Mateo who continually screamed at him, “Where is she? Where is she?”
Saxton, bloodied, arm hanging at an odd angle, was not answering which prompted Mateo to pull out his machete and raise it high in the air. Before he could bring it down, Odessa pulled the trigger of the Beretta, shooting Mateo in the hand. She ran to Saxton’s side to check his back pocket for the handcuff key, but it was too late. She did not see Delgado sitting in the corner with a gun to Rentería’s head. Odessa was plain fed up with this nonsense. She was not going to negotiate, she did not want to hear his diatribe about how he should be in charge. She squeezed off two more rounds, catching both men off guard.
The first shot hit Rentería in the leg causing him to bend over in pain, leaving Delgado free to receive the second shot in his chest. As the guards responded to the gun shots, she yelled to the women, “Ahora! La Libertad!” Out of the kitchen, down the stairs, into the common areas, the women flooded the house with their make shift weapons. Just as Odessa thought, the big bad men with guns were over run and many simply dropped their guns. The man from the barn that Odessa had seen earlier, managed to get off a couple of well-aimed rounds which shot two of the women. His crime in the barn must not have been his first, as the women converged on him, calling him names as they beat and clubbed him to death. Several of the men slipped out the house, loaded up in vehicles headed back to where ever they had been taken from or back home.
In the midst of the chaos, Saxton was freed. Odessa made a beeline to Rentería to apply pressure to the gunshot. She had not nicked an artery and it was a through and through wound. One could only hope those were not the venom tipped bullets. She knelt beside him and whispered in his ear, “I saved your life, please allow us to have ours.” She called for the woman who helped her in the barn to tend to El Jefe.
They did not wait for a response as she helped a very injured Saxton to his feet and they slipped out the side door and made their way back to the barn for the Jeep. They rode in silence as he took the back roads to Puerto Vallarta. His face was a bloody mess, his left eye was swollen, and when he coughed, he spat up blood. Odessa offered to drive, but he told her no. Saxton held his side as he eyed the darkened road with his one good eye. She remained quiet for the hour drive, but she knew he was in an extreme amount of pain. He said little as he finally pulled into the back of a plain brick building. He entered a code which opened the gate.
“Welcome back Agent Blakemore,” the young man said as he took the keys to park the vehicle.
Chapter 9- This Way, Mrs. Blakemore
Saxton wasted no time keeping his promise as office staff rushed to help with ice for his face, but he pushed them all aside. Targeting Agent Marecus Roget stood i
n the walkway staring down at the motley pair. “When we didn’t hear from you for a few days, I was starting to get worried. Now I see why you were so quiet,” he smiled lasciviously at Odessa.
“Somebody, get her some food, some water, and on the first thing headed to Dallas! I want her home and in her own bed by breakfast; move people, move like you’ve got a purpose,” was all Saxton said to his co-workers. His boss, the collection management officer asked, “Blakemore, seems like you barely got out of this one alive.”
A few asinine questions later, the room got quiet as everyone’s eyes turned to Odessa. She sat quietly in the corner, sipping on her water and nibbling on a tuna salad sandwich someone shoved in her hand. She didn’t care if it was a manure spread on whole wheat, she was just happy to be safe. Finally, agent Roget asked, “Okay, Blakemore, who’s the bird?”
“That is my wife, make sure she gets home safely.” Saxton disappeared down the hallway and never looked back at her. “This way, Mrs. Blakemore,” someone said, as three agents helped her up and took her down a different hall and loaded her into a black SUV. The drive to the landing field was short as she was shoved into a small aircraft and in the air in less than 30 minutes. She arrived in Dallas in the wee hours of the morning, and with the assistance of some special tools; one of the agents ‘helped’ open her door to let her into her house.
After a warm shower, and a hot cup of tea with a few crackers and cheese, Odessa climbed in between her sheets and began to shake uncontrollably. This must be the part that was considered shock. She had killed a man. He was a very bad man who was going to kill her, but nonetheless, she had taken a life. That was not something you bounced back from. The floodgate of tears opened and she hugged the pillow trying to wrap her mind around the last three days.
It was several hours later before she was able to process that Saxton Blakemore was not a drug dealing scumbag but an undercover agent. She didn’t know what kind or what type, but his real name was Saxton and he introduced her to his team as his wife. Well, what do you make of that?
Chapter 10- How Was The Vacation?
It took three more days for Odessa to stop vomiting. The CIA had made appointments for her to spend some time with one of their counselors to help her cope with the potential PTSD of the ordeal. Ordeal? Ordeal? She killed a man and married another; a man that she had not heard from in a week, which was truly pissing her off.
The cruise line attempted to give her grief about missing the boat, even after she tried to explain to them six times, that she had been kidnapped by human traffickers, but they still refused to give her a refund. She asked the counselor with the agency to reach out and rattle them a bit, which seemed to work. She still did not receive a refund, but a paid cruise to the Caribbean. The only things that ran through her mind were pirates. She gave the tickets to her parents. She was done with boats, cruises, and countries more famous for drug trafficking than sight-seeing.
She spent several nights at her parents’ house simply because she did not wish to be alone. Especially after Rentería sent flowers to her office thanking her for saving his life. His next note came with a box of candy and a job offer. Well, at least there were no hard feelings. She smiled at the thought. Who knew? She shot the man and he still wanted to work with her.
The one she truly wanted to work with was Saxton Blakemore. It wasn’t so bad being his wife, even if it was pretend. She felt like a bad ass when she was pretending at being Mrs. Blakemore. She had busted a cap in Delgado, shot the leader of a notorious drug cartel, led an employee labor dispute, and saved an undercover agent. In her heart, she truly expected to hear from Saxton by now. It was silly of her to believe that he would just waltz in, tell her he was in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Honestly, she was hoping for a True Lies or a Mr. & Mrs. Smith type of ending, but at this point she just wanted to see the man again. In the midst of all that danger, he kept his word, never dishonored or disrespected her, even when she climbed on top of him each morning hoping she would get lucky. Oh hush up, and stop judging; even a girl about to die wants to go out with a smile on her face and a tingle in her pants.
After nearly two months, she had given up on Saxton and went about her life, having coffee with friends, shopping and attempting to be normal. She would never be normal again, and changed her expectations of how she would live her life.
Late one Friday afternoon, Odessa met some friends at the Candleroom for drinks. She hated the place—too loud, too noisy and too many posers. For a brief moment, she thought she spotted Saxton, felt silly and headed home. It wasn’t her imagination when she spotted the black car following her and she opted instead to head to her parents’ home as opposed to her own. If Rentería was coming for her, he would have to face the power of her Daddy’s very large shotgun. Retired Master Sergeant Kevin Trodat had served in Viet Nam and constantly believed the enemy was always at the gate. If there was one thing her Daddy had taught her, it was how to shoot a weapon. The man had a houseful and each of his children were skilled with every type of weapon from small arms to large caliber. She hoped he had taken out something with really big bullets when she called him, yelling in the phone, “I’m coming in hot, Daddy, with a bogie on my tail!” Yes, it was overdramatic, but so were her second-amendment, gun-toting parents.
She whipped her Ford Focus into the drive and pulled around back. She hopped out of the car and ran into the back door yelling, “Daddy, lock and load!” Kevin Trodat only needed to hear that sentence once before dropping in the shells, loading, locking and pointing it at the front door. Her mother had picked up a Sig Sauer and was peering out from behind the couch aiming at the front door. It was unclear why Dora Trodat had put on the camouflaged headband, but that woman had an outfit for every occasion. Odessa smiled again when she thought fondly of how she had inherited her mother’s shopping genes.
The doorbell rang and her father seated the rifle in the pocket of his shoulder. She held up her fist for her Daddy to hold fast, and peeped out of the curtain in case whoever was at the door wanted to shoot her through the eye hole. It looked like Saxton with a haircut. She cracked the door and it was him. A bevy of emotions flooded her as she opened the door to let him in, her mother was quick to ask, “Baby, who is it, my trigger finger is itchy!”
“It’s my husband, Mama.”
She heard her Daddy grab the box of shells, muttering while trying to load more into the weapon, “Stand down, Daddy, stand down; he’s safe,” Odessa told her father as she removed the gun from his hands.
She looked at Saxton and started this conversation the very same way she started their first one, she slapped his face, “That is for making me want to come look for you,” then she planted a kiss on his lips, “and this is because I am so damned happy to see you.”
He gathered her in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly, her mother swooned. Her Daddy had picked up the gun again, “Somebody better tell me something or I am going to start shooting.”
“Mom, Dad, this is Saxton Blakemore, I kind of got married to him in Mexico,” she twisted her lips as she made the confession as if she had gotten a ticket in her Mamma’s Caddy. Saxton whispered in her ear, “You are right, your Daddy is scary.” She only gave him a told you look.
Saxton helped to upright her mother on the couch, as they explained everything that happened in Mexico, leaving out the parts about Odessa killing Delgado, having a young whore detox cold turkey, and freeing 50 sex slaves. Those parts her parents did not need to know. But what Odessa needed to know was, what took him so long to come for her?
With ease, he explained it took three surgeries to save his left eye from the fractured occipital bone, which left him 60% visibility in that eye. This change in physical status also removed him from being a field agent and it took a while to get the clearance to transfer to the Dallas office for a desk job as an analyst.
“You transferred to Dallas?”
“I had to, that’s where my wife lives,
” he said with a sheepish smile.
“Are you serious, we are going to stay married?”
Her Daddy had heard enough, “And what makes you think you are worthy of my daughter? And what is to stop me from shooting you right here and now?”
Saxton, stood up, facing her father across the coffee table laden with too many books and magazines about guns, he pulled up his shirt to show him the cuts and nicks from the rib bones that had broken through the skin, “Sir, I drove for an hour in the dark, blind in one eye, four fractured ribs and a broken left arm. This scar right here, is where this rib bone stuck out as I held it with my broken hand while driving so it would not puncture my lung. But I promised Odessa I would get her home safely, and that is what I did.” The parts about how much he felt, how he planned to spend the rest of his life falling more in love with her every day, went out the window, as he spoke of his battle during his recovery to get well to be at her side. Her father eyed the wounds and seemed impressed. “Sir, if it is okay with you, I would like to stay married to your daughter.”
Big Sarge just stared at him with a sour face. Saxton was not going to be intimidated, “And I would appreciate if you would stand down with the weapon.” Saxton must have chosen the right words. Big Sarge extended his hand for a shake.
“I have two tickets to Paris in my pocket and I plan to take Odessa on a very nice honeymoon.” Odessa knew the tickets meant he was ready to collect on his agreement for a wedding night.
Odessa wasted no time, gathering her things, “Mama, Daddy, I’ll be back for my car,” she said as she ushered Saxton out the front door.
“Where are we headed?” Saxton asked.
Being Mrs. Blakemore Page 4
