A Weekend with the Blakemores (The Blakemore Files Book 8)

by Olivia Gaines

  It was early on Sunday morning when Saxton came downstairs. He’d been unable to sleep worrying about the trip to South America. This would be their first trip with the twins and he wasn’t sure how he felt about traveling with them so young, especially on a plane ride. They came with so much stuff to bring. Binkies and bottles, diapers and clothes, burp cloths and bibs, boob massagers and bottle warmers, blankets and bonnets, booties...

  “You look troubled,” a deep voice said from behind him. Saxton jumped at the sound of Connard’s voice. “Whoa CIA man, don’t shoot!”

  His younger brother held his hands up in defense.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Saxton asked Connard.

  “Heavy is the head which wears the crown,” he quoted Shakespeare. Two coffee cups were taken from the pantry. Connard was as tall, just as muscular, but not as dark in features or hair coloring as Saxton. His voice was deeper with soft brown eyes which indicated a gentle soul stuck inside of a warrior’s body. He’d played football in both high school and college dating only one girl in high school and one in college. His marriage of only two years had be fraught with fighting and bitterness. Connard pretty much paid her to go away. However, in this new phase of his life he seemed happier but lonely at the same time.

  “I was hoping to get some time alone to speak with you about a few things,” Saxton said.

  “What’s up? You need money?” Connard asked pouring them both a cup of coffee.

  “No,” he said. “Why would you think that?”

  Connard shrugged. “You have two kids now. They seem to be eating and pooping their way through tons of clothes. I swear each week they look different.”

  “I am okay, I mean, unless you know something I don’t. Is my oil well still producing?” he asked him.

  “Yes, I did slow its production down to a fourth when you joined the agency, but the well is not dry by a long shot. If we continue to pump at the rate we are using, it should carry you well into your old age,” Connard told him.

  “The two wells Grandma Patsy gave the babies, those are not dry are they?” Saxton wanted to know.

  “No, not at all. We opened Robbie’s last month and there is a nice depository there. Austin’s is scheduled to get started next month so make sure the accounts are open for the proceeds,” he said looking down into the cup.

  It was sitting right on the counter. The thing which Connard wanted to discuss but he didn’t know how to approach the subject or open the box. Whatever it was, weighed down his brother’s thoughts.

  “I’m listening,” Saxton said.

  “To what?” Connard looked up.

  “I am listening to whatever it is that is weighing you down. I assume that this has something to do with how happy you are to visit a drug Czar’s farm in the middle of the Colombian jungle or rainforest or wherever the hell he lives? I don’t even want to go and you do...so something is off here little brother,” Saxton said.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Connard said.

  “Try me.”

  Connard frowned and shook his head. “Another time perhaps...,” he said.

  “No, there is no other time. We have no idea what we are walking into when we head to Eduardo’s. We are going in with Grammy who is recovering from a mild heart attack, our mother who has only been sober less than a year, our father who thinks he has been commissioned to be James Bond’s assistant and two babies. Let’s not forget that my wife killed the man’s brother, her sister just had Eduardo’s baby and Dora the explorer tortured his men in Puerto Rico with wet towels. I think at least one of those guys will never be able to have kids. And last but not least, my father-in-law just had his hip replaced a few months ago and Roget is coming and he has a thing for our sister! So no, Connard, you don’t get to hide in your head. I need you front and center and focused because if some shit is to go down with either Eduardo or the FARCs, or any damned body else, I need a weapon in your hand and you at my back,” Saxton said far more calmly than he felt.

  “You forgot something,” Connard said.

  “What’s that?”

  “That damned Kevin Jr.,” he said and started laughing. Saxton burst into laughter as well.

  “Oh yeah, and then there is that,” he said. “Whatever is on your mind, now is the time. Keep in mind too Connard, that Roget only has one good eye.”

  He exhaled a mouthful of coffee breath, running his hand over his mustache, then looking at Saxton.

  “I’m excited because I want to party with Jason,” he said softly.

  “What?”

  “We never get to go out, have any fun or travel,” he said. “I am Blakemore Oil. The future of the company is on my shoulders. The stock holders don’t want to see me kissing a man, let alone being affectionate with one in public.”

  “Neither do your parents,” Saxton said.

  “That’s the other thing,” he said. “I want them to see me with him, enjoying his company.”

  “Yes, but you have to be respectful of your openness in front of Eduardo’s children and in his home. We are Catholic, but not as Catholic as he is,” Saxton said.

  “That is the wrong argument to use with me,” he said. Connard’s dislike of the church was well known from the time he was a child serving as an altar boy, he wanted no part of it.

  “I am not stupid,” Connard told Saxton. “It’s just that no one has access to Eduardo’s land. There are no drones with cameras, or idiots with camera phones, so if I wanted to go horse backing riding with Jason, I could. Mainly, I want him to sit at the table with us and share a meal.”

  “You haven’t done that here, why do you want to do it there, in someone else’s home,” Saxton asked.

  “Because Dad can’t get pissed off and throw him out,” Connard said with a smile.

  “Yeah, I guess there is that,” Saxton said.

  A quiet fell between the two brothers as the sun crested over the plains and the house began to stir.

  “Saxton?”

  “Yeah Connard?”

  “I have your back. I hope you have mine,” Connard said softly.

  Rarely did Saxton show outward affection to his siblings in anything other than a quick embrace or a pat on the back. He rose slowly, wrapping his arms around his brother, placing an affection kiss on his temple as he hugged him tightly.

  “I will never let you down,” Saxton told him, releasing him to climb the stairs to help his wife with the morning feeding.

  Thick, meaty fingers rubbed across Connard’s stinging eyes as he fought back the tears. It was in this same kitchen as his brother wore an eye patch, recovering from a bullet wound and broken ribs that he shared with him his lifestyle choice. He didn’t know what to expect when he blurted it out without a buffer.

  “Saxton, I am gay,” he said flatly almost three years ago.

  “Yeah, well I got married to black woman I don’t know in Mexico,” he responded.

  “What?”

  “Sure did, and we pretended to consummate the marriage, so there,” he said. “You tell Dad you’re gay and I will tell Mama that I am planning to stay married to that wonderful black woman and raise some bi-racial Blakemore babies in this house. My half black son is going to be trained by you to take over Blakemore Oil.”

  “Shit,” Connard said three years ago and he repeated the phrase this morning. Saxton Blakemore has never let me down. He picked up his phone and sent a message to his assistant to schedule him some time at the shooting range before he left for South America. Just in case my brother needs me.

  Las Tierras Verdes, Colombia

  Yuńior walked back and forth across the wooden floor, the soft soles of his shoes barely making a sound as he nestled Isabella close to his chest. She was fussier than usual as his hands rubbed small circles in her back, cooing to her, until finally he began to sing the same lullaby from yesterday. Her little body twisted against him as soft words were whispered into her ear.

  “There, there little one. I have you. You
are safe with me,” Yuńior said to her. He continued the conversation with his little sister in Spanish telling her about her brothers, the land, and all the wonderful things their father grew from the soil. He even mentioned to her his desire to see more of the world.

  “Yuńior! Where is Ryanne?” Eduardo asked, confusion on his face seeing his son play nurse maid to his sister.

  He held his finger to his lips, in a quiet askance that his father keep his voice down. Yuńior pointed at the kitchen.

  “What is she doing in the kitchen?”

  “Cooking something,” he said softly, rubbing the baby’s back.

  “She does not need to do such things! We have staff for that sort of work. Let me go and...”

  The departure was halted by a firm grip from Yuńior. “She is making me buffalo bites,” he said with a grin.

  “What is that? I have no bison meat here,” Eduardo said with a frown.

  A small smile came to his son’s face, something which he seldom did. “Papa, I wanted some of the Buffalo wings, like we had at the Blakemore ranch, but we would have to kill several chickens to get enough wings for a hearty snack. Instead, she is making the fried pieces like...uhmm...the chicken nuggets...is that the word?” He repeated it again, “Nuggets.”

  “Why is Ryanne cooking for you? You can make your own meals,” he said with a scowl on his face.

  “Papa, she is doing it because she is bored to death. American women do not like to sit about all day doing nothing,” he said.

  “She is not doing nothing, she is my wife,” he boasted.

  “Sí, Papa, but she does not run the house, Marianna does,” he said.

  Eduardo took a seat on the couch, urging his son to do the same. His heart swelled at the sight of his oldest and youngest child together, the love her brother was exhibiting with her care touched him deeply. For a moment he allowed himself to sink into the deep cushions and relax.

  “I guess she must adjust to being the wife of a Czar,” he said.

  “Good luck with that.” Yuńior spoke too quick, wishing he could catch his words in the air before the offending syllables reached his father’s ears.

  Eduardo’s eyes were closed as he leaned back on the couch. “What do you mean by those words?”

  It was too late, he couldn’t take them back. It was either go forward and die, or sit still like a coward and die inside.

  “It is hard being your son, I can imagine how tough it is for her to be your wife,” Yuńior said.

  “You think that is tough, try being me,” he said, his eyes still closed. There was so much he wanted to tell his son, to make him understand his place in the world, his place on the land, his place in history, but he could never find the right time. He was home for a two week break before his final term. The summer would be his then he would be off to two years of skills school, then on to the University.

  “When I was your age, I wanted to be a rock and roll star. I was going to travel South America, become famous, have all the señoritas fall in love with me. Then I was going to go to North America, to Hollywood, to live in a mansion and drive a fancy car with shiny wheels,” he confessed.

  “What happened?”

  “My father, decided Hugo was unfit to inherit the land and Andres was too wild to understand, so he groomed me to take over the care of our people and protect our way of life. I learned to do so at any cost,” he said.

  “I have heard others say Papa, that you have killed people,” Yuńior said softly.

  “Sí. It is true,” Eduardo said. He cracked an eye to see the shocked look on his son’s face. “Did you expect me to lie to you?”

  Yuńior nodded his head yes.

  “I am many things; a liar, a thief and a cheat are not traits I want associated with my name,” he said.

  “You are one of the most powerful men on two continents Papa, does it matter what people associate with your name?” he asked.

  “It matters to me Yuńior. Power is something which is perceived, true power lies in knowing your weakness,” Eduardo said. His eyes were focused on his son knowing the next question.

  “I cannot believe you have a weakness,” Yuńior said, shifting Isabella to the waiting bassinette, covering her little body with the soft blanket.

  “Every man has a weakness. For some it is obvious, like wine, gambling or women,” he said.

  “Will you tell me your weakness Papa, or will it make you weaker to do so?”

  “My one weakness is you,” he said.

  Yuńior sat up straight on the couch. His back rigid. “Me?”

  Eduardo leaned forward with his arms resting on the thighs of his black jeans. “You are my prodigy and my progeny. Your children will inherit this house and the care of our people. Hugo never understood that, he wanted to subjugate the people, make them fear him. I am teaching you that if you treat them well, in turn they will work hard for you. Care for you and your children,” he said.

  “Papa...I don’t know. I have so much to learn about life, girls, love,” he said.

  “In time you will. At sixteen-years-old, you know more than many men twice your age. I am proud of who you have become, be a good man and you will have a good life,” he told him.

  “Some of the girls at school, will not give me the time of day, simply because I am your son,” he said.

  “Good! Those types of senoritas you do not need nor do you want. The right lady for you will see you as you are and love the man inside,” he told him.

  “Like you and the Seňora?”

  “Sí. Ryanne was able to look past my imperfections, see the man I wanted to be versus the man I have to be. When I am inside of this home, with her and mis ninos, I am the man I want to be,” he told him. “Right now, be young, practice at being a young man and when it is time, I shall help you choose a suitable mate, however, do not leave a trail of broken hearts or bastards about this world Yuńior!”

  “Sí, Papa,” he said to him.

  He stood slowly, looking down at Isabella sleeping. “The women on this land and in the villages are also off limits,” he told his son.

  “I had not considered indulging with any of them,” Yuńior said.

  “Good, because I do not know how many of them may be your cousins,” he said with a frown.

  “Que?”

  “Your Uncle Andres thought it was a game to seduce the young maidens in the village. Hugo, on the other hand felt they were there for his pleasure or abuse. It created fear and hostility in the farmers, as well as sullying their daughters. Our role is protecting the people so all the children feel safe and the young ladies grow up to be women of virtue,” he said with his hand on Isabella’s back. “A true man does not do those things son.”

  “Papa, do I have any other sisters anywhere in the world...just in case?”

  Eduardo’s eyebrows shot up. “The only sister you have is in this basket. The only brothers you have are at your grandparent’s home!” The rising timber in his voice caused Isabella to squirm.

  “You sure about that Papa?” Yuńior asked with a smile.

  “I am certain about that!” he told him.

  Yuńior’s eyebrows shot up, “The Seňora Papa...Isabella?” He was doing the math, the baby and the timing of the marriage meant if his father slipped once, then there may have been other possibilities for children.

  “I never do anything unintentionally son,” he said with a smile and a wink. Eduardo had been careful if not abstinent for many years following the death of his wife. Yet, the sight of Ryanne in the store buying those ridiculous white underwear, awoke a part of him that had gone dormant years before. The betrayal of his wife tainted his interest in women for even the joy of finding pleasure. His energies were placed into working himself to the bone until he was too tired to do much at night but sleep. There was no time to make bastards or anything else.

  His thoughts went to Mateo. A bastard child who worked so hard for the approval of his father, creating disgusting enterprises by preyi
ng on the weak to amass a fortune. He never wanted that for anyone, least of all an off spring of his.

  A strong stench permeated the air as Eduardo looked at his son. Yuńior’s hands went up. “Don’t look at me!”

  They both looked down at Isabella who was squirming.

  Yuńior asked. “How does something so small create something so smelly?”

  Eduardo frowned as he looked down at his poop making daughter.

  “I have not been taught how to change a diaper,” his son said taking off running towards the kitchen leaving Eduardo alone with his little angel.

  “Don’t worry my little darling, I will take perfect care of you,” he said, lifting her from the bassinette, kissing her fuzz covered head. “Papá has you.”

  Chapter Six – Say What Now?

  Monday - Busy B Ranch, Houston Texas

  “Saxton?” Lucille called from the bottom of the stairs. “Saxton?” She yelled again. He came around the corner from the kitchen, a bran muffin in one hand a cup of decaf in the other. Of all the tasteless foods his wife used to prepare, he’d developed a liking for the health benefits of a bran muffin in the morning. He also discovered that he could drink two cups of decaf before noon without having an upset stomach or that crashing feeling midday which used to send him looking for something sweet to bring him back up on level. He peered around the corner, his head sticking out like a small child playing hide and seek.

  “I’m here Mama,” he said softly to not scare her. “We do have an intercom system in the house.”

  “Don’t you think I know that smart man,” she said. “Your Daddy and I are headed out to some third world country to pretend like we care about some Incan dust collectors in a museum in Medallion!”

  “Medellín,” he corrected.

  “Whatever! I just want to make sure you know where all the papers are and that you can open the safe,” she said.

  “Mama, what are you talking about?”

  “Just in case we don’t make it back,” she told him. In his hand she placed a small notebook. “Here are all of my account numbers, assets and anything that can be liquefied in case we are kidnapped. Please promise me Saxie that if we are held for ransom, that you will come for us.”