Being Mr. Blakemore (The Blakemore Files Book 7)

by Olivia Gaines

  Eduardo gave him a time and rendezvous location of where to meet him when he arrived in Panama before hanging up the phone. He turned in the bed to look at his wife. In his head, he needed to find the right words to tell her he had to leave to go and handle some bad guys. He also needed to change his clothes, his mindset, and his attitude so that he could become Eduardo, the czar.

  “That was Odessa,” Ryanne told him as she hung up her phone.

  Her husband said nothing.

  “Roget and Kevin Jr. have been taken, Saxton is on his way to Panama, but she has calculated the odds that one of them will not be coming home...at least not alive,” Ryanne told him. Her face was somber with the news.

  Eduardo still had not spoken.

  “Bobby Ray Blakemore has asked for you to go in and bring them all home. He said if you did, he would owe you a favor and you will always be welcomed at his ranch and in his home,” she told Eduardo. “He said you would be family.”

  He leaned over to press the red button on the side of his bed. Sore muscles from trimming coffee bushes impeded his progress. His next move was to his closet to put on his custom black cargo pants with the extra pockets for all of his gear.

  “Cover yourself Cariňa,” he said.

  Tonda entered the sleeping quarters and spotted his boss’s pants. Sparks sprang from his eyes and the large man almost became giddy. Those cargo pants on Eduardo’s body meant business.

  Tonda was far too happy when he asked, “Where to Jeffe?”

  “Lay in a flight plan for Vacamonte, Panama. We will need additional fuel from Panama to Houston, then to Los Angeles and home,” he said.

  “Can I take the pequeno puta madre?” Tonda wanted to know.

  “Sí, sí, you can,” Eduardo said in the same tone he would tell a child about receiving some ice cream after dinner.

  Suddenly he noticed Ryanne. Tonda was grinning, “Buen Dia! I get to take the pequeno puta madre!”

  “Eddie,” she called to him as Tonda left the room almost dancing. “What is a little mother f-er?”

  “It is his favorite weapon, a grenade launcher,” Eduardo said, sounding tired.

  “Are you planning to blow something up?” she asked.

  “Si...but do not trouble your pretty head with such dark matters. You must stay filled with positive thoughts for our baby girl,” he said. His hand resting on her belly.

  The panels in the walls were seamless, so ingrained into the wood that had she not witnessed it for herself, she would have never known a weapons cache was in their bedroom. Past the door were shelved rows of knives, blades, Ninja stars, as well as custom items which slipped into the custom pockets of his pants. The lightweight metals did not ruin the line of the material as he slipped on rubber-bottomed boots, a dark shirt, and grabbed his guitar.

  Ryanne could not help but notice that with each weapon that went into a slot in the pants, his demeanor changed. He slipped in a knife, his expression darkened. When Eduardo added the Ninja stars, his body language altered. She physically witnessed her Eddie changing into one of the baddest men on the planet.

  “Eddie, are you doing this because of what Mr. Blakemore offered you?”

  His head turned slowly, his dark eyes bored into her. Something else was in his expression. The focus was intense, his anger real. His mission was set.

  “I am doing it because your brother is in danger. I will not be able to live with myself if he dies and I did nothing to prevent his demise. I also know that you will hold it against me in your heart if I made no attempt to save him. Besides, I like your brother. He is una el payaso, but a likable idiot.”

  “Gee thanks,” she said to the sideways compliment. “But all the weapons and Tonda’s pequeno puta madre?”

  “I tried to shut down these body parts factories when Mateo was alive, which is why so much anonymous aid was offered to the Blakemores. I don’t like this nasty business. I don’t like human trafficking and I don’t like the men who do it for a living,” he said.

  “Oh, so now you are a criminal with a conscience?”

  “Sí, I do have a conscience, my wife. If you do drugs, that is your choice, just as smoking cigarettes is a choice. I sell a high-end drug. You can’t be poor and use what I sell. Therefore, you are making a conscious decision to drop a thousand dollars on nose candy,” he told her. “I have no control over sub products others choose to make from the larger quantities which are purchased from us. I can, however, shut down something I know is unconscionable.”

  “...And Bobby Ray Blakemore owing you a favor?”

  Eduardo swore under his breath in Spanish. “I could care less about that man owing me anything, however, I will not miss an opportunity to mend a broken fence so that our daughter may grow up playing with her cousins. It is important for you and your sister to remain close. I do not want to be the cause of distance between the two of you,” he said.

  “I love you,” Ryanne told him.

  “Te amo Cariňa,” he said.

  “Eddie, you come back to me,” she told him.

  “Of course, I will be back, I am Eduardo Delgado!” he said with his lip upturned Elvis style.

  “Last time I checked, you were not bulletproof,” she said softly.

  “No, but I am one mean, badass, grande puta madre,” he said.

  “Yes, you sure as hell are!” She gave a sad smile to her husband, “Time to go to work Eduardo Delgado.”

  “I will be home tomorrow in time for dinner,” he said as he kissed her lightly on the lips the other hand gently rubbing her belly.

  Ryanne’s hands went to her chest as she watched him walk out the door. Silently she said a prayer for him to come home safely. She also prayed for her brother, her brother-in-law, and Agent Roget. This is how it feels for Odessa each time Saxton leaves home for a mission.

  For the first time, she understood truly what it felt like to be Odessa. She now comprehended the weight of the being Mrs. Blakemore because the load of being Mrs. Delgado felt mighty heavy as well.

  Chapter 7 – We will be

  Vacamonte, Panama

  The dull throb of electricity shot through his temple like bolts of lightning on a wide open field searching for a receptacle for induction of pain. His vision was blurred, his arm was hurting and for some reason, his legs were cool. Try as he might to fight off the dizziness, he could barely open his eyes.

  Open your eyes Marecus.

  Open your eyes.

  Bad men.

  Danger.

  Open your eyes Agent.

  He continued to repeat the words in his head until finally, he pulled himself back into reality. Once his eyes opened, he wished he could close them back to avoid a true actuality of what was going to happen to him if he didn’t start fighting for his life. Agent Roget tried to sit up, but he was being held down by at least two men as one removed his pants. The agent, fearing the worse, kicked at the man tugging on his trousers as he rolled his body from side to side trying to free himself from the grip of the men holding him down. A sucker punch caught him in the right eye blurring his vision. A large fist came into his guts, hitting him so hard, his bladder let go. For the first time in his life, he wanted his bowels to go along with it. A big load of human processed breakfast would definitely be a deterrent to a man who wanted to punch in the time stamp in his pooper.

  Shifty stepped forward, pulling at the men who stood around like hungry dogs waiting for a chance to nibble at the scraps. He yelled at them, “What is wrong with you men? Is this what you have become? It is bad enough when you force yourselves upon helpless women, but to do this to a man?”

  He spat on the floor.

  “You disgust me,” he said to the group.

  An Asian male, he didn’t know his name, who had been sitting in the corner observing all of the antics of the day, moved forward. “You ... big shot now?” he asked in broken English.

  The crowd looked over at the little man. No one knew the little assassin spoke any English sin
ce he was always quiet.

  Shifty answered, “No, but this is not what I signed up to do.”

  “What if...men make you next?” the Asian man asked again in broken English.

  The answer came in the form of Shifty’s 9mm which he pulled from his pocket. His bulging eyes stared at the man as movements from his thin, greasy brown hair separated on his head as if the strands were making an opening for the transmission of his thoughts. “I wish a bastard would try me,” Shifty said without a smile.

  “Get that man onto his feet and pull his pants up,” Shifty commanded.

  The men were slow to move. Shifty fired a bullet at the floor. “If you want something to screw, go finish off the girl over there. She is not long for this life or any other,” he said. He knew Alberlado had planned to use her for parts.

  He did not turn his back on the men as he stepped backward from the crew. Slowly, the men aided Roget to his feet.

  Shifty said, “You...move!” He pointed his weapon at Roget urging him to walk. They traveled a short distance down a dark hallway. Roget’s shaky fingers held on to his broken belt, the vision in his right eye fading. The pungent smell of dirty bodies, urine and feces rose up to slap him in the face from the dark passageway they traveled to the holding cells. His hand went to his nose trying feebly to stop the smelly assault. The sour, rancid stench making his stomach wretch.

  Don’t throw up.

  Don’t throw up.

  “Thanks,” Roget said softly to Shifty so no one could hear him.

  “Thank me by getting me out of here when your help arrives,” Shifty said. His foot went into the center of Roget’s back as he pushed hard, forcing the agent to the floor on his hands and knees in a filthy cell. The floor was covered with old blood or worse. The sound of the locking of the cell rang in his ears like a bad scene from a horror movie.

  “Roget?” a small voice called out from the darkness.

  “Yeah?” he mumbled, trying not to vomit.

  “I think we gonna die!” Kevin Jr. said. “But first, I think they want to hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt, Roget. Can you call for some help? I don’t want some dude’s dick in my butt!”

  “Young Trodat, it is not at the top of my list of things to have done to me while in Panama either,” Roget said.

  Of all the phrasing...of all the choices of wording...Kevin Jr.’s expression gave him hope. So much hope, he started to laugh. He laughed so loud that it was exactly what Carlos Delgado needed. The loud laughter honed into precisely where the men were located. It was now a waiting game. However, first, he had to get word to Shifty Jones to let him know when the cavalry arrived, he would be riding out with them.

  “Hold tight dudes, help is on the way,” Carlos said to himself as he went to make a phone call to his brother.

  Saxton Blakemore arrived under the cover of darkness, coming around the side of the warehouse, his favorite weapon in his hand. He held it high as his body moved with stealth, always leading with his right since the vision was compromised in his left eye. The warehouse was quiet, especially for such a large operation. The night time was normally when all of the activity took place loading cargo onto ships which would sail with the morning tides. All he had to do was slip in, shoot a few people, and slip out with Kevin Jr. and Marecus. His body pressed against the side of the wall as he double checked his ammo and ensured the silencer was affixed to the muzzle.

  One step to the right, then a quick step to the left and he was inside the warehouse. The broken overhead light offered no aid in seeing where he was going as he tried to look up over his head to make sure there were no surprises waiting for him. Finely trained senses listened carefully, but before he could react to step backward, he heard a hiss and the hairs on his neck stood up. Something cold fell on his shoulders followed by something bigger and colder which slithered down his arm. Fear gripped him as one more coiling, slithering menace fell on him. Blindly he ran down the hall towards an open doorway. He didn’t know where he was running to and he didn’t care. His skin crawled as he looked left and right before jumping at the chair which sat in the middle of the floor. Dancing sideways at a piece of rope on the floor which his mind registered as a snake and he sought refuge in an empty room.

  A large man with a deep complexion and evil sneer walked into the doorway. He held in one hand a boa constrictor and a juvenile albino python on the other arm. A dark expression of amusement was aimed at Saxton as if he were enjoying a paradox in which only he foresaw the outcome.

  “Men like you are no real challenge, Saxton Blakemore. Take away your ability to shoot a gun and what are you...nothing,” he said to him.

  The look on Saxton’s face registered quickly with Alberlado, that the agent had no idea who he was. After today, many would know his name. If he played his cards correctly, his name would be registered in the annals of bad guy history as the man who killed Saxton Blakemore.

  “I am Alberlado Rentería,” he said to Saxton. “I will have food and water sent up to you, the bathroom is in that corner.”

  Saxton’s eyes were on the snakes. The ones which had fallen upon his head made their way down the short hall as well to slither up next to their owner. The snakes were preceded by a crafty little Asian man with a lidded bucket.

  “Blakemore, you are only valuable to those who love you. To me, you are a waste of time. I am not even going to bother putting a guard on your door,” Alberlado said to him. “Instead, I am going to leave this door unlocked and fill this hallway with serpents. Some shall be venomous and pissed off, others will stand guard over you simply because their size.”

  He closed the door walking away with a smirk on his dark face, leaving Saxton shuddering and alone with his fears.

  Puente Piedra, Colombia

  Ryanne stood to face the large window in the master bedroom in the ancestral home of her new husband. Her hands rubbed absently at her belly as she stared out at Las Tierras Verdes de mis Antecedentes. His ancestors. The green valleys of his ancestors.

  Not mine.

  His.

  All of this is his.

  A sudden rush of fear swept through her as she rubbed her belly listlessly. The one thought that often made her second guess her decision to come here continually resurfaced in her brain no matter how many times she tried to bury the fear...now I am his wife...carrying his child. What if he doesn’t come back?

  Dread rumbled in her belly as she thought about what she would do, what would need to be done if Eduardo didn’t make it home alive. Ryanne thought of his four children.

  Our four children? No, those too are his.

  There were no doubts that the grandparents would keep the children to raise. Carlos, the brother she had yet to meet...would he come home and take over the farm? The small form of a man in the fields trimming coffee bushes took her back to yesterday when she sat on the front porch as her husband rode through the fields on his horse, stopping to help the men trim the coffee bushes as well.

  I know nothing about this life.

  Soft words were spoken to the child as she rubbed the soft material of fabric covering her stomach. If her husband did not return, she would go back to Dallas and live...where? She wiped away the tear that gently rolled down her cheek. How does Odessa do this?

  Ryanne had never envied her sister. She admired the tenacity and willingness to take life by the horns, but Odessa was also not afraid of being stuck. Her mind calculated possible outcomes and a backup plan was always in play. My mind doesn’t work like that. I don’t have a backup plan.

  A gentle knock came at the door.

  “Señora,” Marianna called. “It is time for the noon meal.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Ryanne called back.

  Instead of Marianna leaving, Eduardo’s assistant opened the bedroom door and let herself into the brightly lit room. Ryanne was dressed but the look on her face told the assistant her boss’s new bride was worried. The way she absently rubbed her belly spoke volumes on her mindset.
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br />   “Please, if you would Señora, join me,” Marianna said. “I do not wish to eat alone.” Her English was very polished and eloquently spoken. The tailor made suit fit her to perfection. The dark hair was pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her neck. It was hard to imagine that this woman ran all the numbers and administrative functions of Las Tierras Verdes de mis Antecedentes.

  “I don’t think I would be very good company Marianna,” Ryanne said softly.

  “I will be the judge of that,” Marianna said, extending her hand.

  Ryanne said nothing as she moved slowly across the room, slipping her hand in Marianna’s. They descended the stairwell arm in arm. Instead of going to the kitchen to enjoy the afternoon meal, Marianna led her instead out to the patio where a small table was set for two.

  “This is lovely,” Ryanne said. The cute table setting with cloth was adorned with fine china with a delicate rose pattern. Ryanne had not seen this set of dishes, the pattern reminiscent of the tea set that Odessa had gotten from their grandmother. “It reminds me of when my sister and I would have afternoon tea...for no reason at all...”

  Marianna smiled as she poured a cup of tea for Ryanne. Smiling was something the woman rarely did; working for a man like Eduardo didn’t come with a lot of happy moments.

  “My sister is on that plane with Señor Delgado,” she said. “As well as Tomas and Raoul. I am in love with Raoul and we are planning to marry as soon as he gets the courage to ask the Señor’s approval.”

  “Congrats,” Ryanne said. “I know you are excited.”

  “I would like to be, but my job...his job...each time the plane leaves, I worry so...that it will not return, or someone will shoot it from the sky to kill Jeffe,” she said. “All that I love will perish in one fiery crash.”

  Marianna’s lip quivered, “Each time they leave, I sit alone, fretting, worrying, fearful of what I would do with myself if none of them came back.”

  Ryanne reached across the table and touched the beautiful woman’s hand. Even filled with her own worries and fears, it never dawned on her that others would have the same concerns. She offered the only advice that she had in her arsenal to console the young woman.