Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore

by Olivia Gaines

  Rentería arrive in a Mercedes with two extra men. Saxton handed him the keys to the truck, followed by a simple explanation. “We came here to shop and see the site. I ventured into the jungle to snap a few photos for the den at home when I heard the small arms fire and children crying.”

  There were no words from Rentería as he gazed into the distance at the ocean. “Seňor Rentería,” Saxton said, “I worked for you for nearly two years. I was a man of my word and always did as I said I would do.”

  Rentería still did not look at him, “I shot back at the men who shot at me. I am a good shot, and I shoot to kill. It is was what I was trained to do,” he paused, “We rescued the children, but had nothing to do with the dead men in that building.” He paused again, trying to gauge the man’s response, “The vehicle was the first thing my wife saw that would hold the injured and bleeding boy as well as transport the children. We are returning the cat to the collector.”

  The trademark Panama Jack hat was removed from Rentería’s head allowing the cool ocean breeze to blow through his dark hair. The white linen suit was crisp as if he had just put it on, while Saxton and Odessa looked as if they had been begging for change at the airport. A very composed Rentería took the keys from Saxton’s hands and handed them to one of the three men that had arrived with him. He pointed to the truck. The man climbed into the truck and drove away with the animal, the second and third man he asked to wait in the car.

  He pointed to Odessa and beckoned her to come closer. She had noticed the change in his countenance, as he maneuvered himself out of ear shot, by having a Blakemore on either side of him as they walked towards the entrance to the jungle. “I am a business man, Saxton.” He said as he stopped and used a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “Did you know that seventy-five percent of what I grow and manufacture at my villa is for pharmaceutical use and is pharmaceutical grade? Which is the main reason why no one really bothers me.”

  He looked at Odessa, “I say with pride that I am a drug dealer. However,” he smiled at her and she noticed the veneers on his teeth, “It bothers me when grown men use children for sport.” He spat on the ground, “It sickens me when they choose to unleash their sexual desires on an innocent child.”

  Both Odessa and Saxton remained quiet, Rentería replaced his hat and used the handkerchief to wipe his eyes. The man was crying. “What I have seen in the past day, has changed me forever.” He looked at Odessa, “These people are monsters.”

  It was instinct that made Odessa reach out and place her hand on his back to offer him a bit of comfort. What she had seen in that room was enough to cause her nightmares well into her old age. Rentería quickly up righted himself, sniffled and regained his composure. “The old rum-runner lines go through Puerto Rico. The other stops are the Virgin Islands, St. Thomas, Barbados, St. Kitts, St Maarten and St Lucia.” He turned away from them and started to walk away.

  “Saxton, it is time to take Mrs. Blakemore on a cruise,” he told them as he walked back to the waiting Mercedes, “but first, get your asses out of Panama, on the second thing moving tomorrow.”

  The ride to return the rental car had been a quiet one, neither had anything to say as they processed the ton of information that had been provided to them in eight sentences by Rentería. The car was returned without an incident as the Blakemores headed back to their hotel. Instead of heading out for dinner, Odessa urged Saxton to make the call.

  In less than an hour, a black SUV showed up at the front of the hotel to pick up the couple along with the items which had been purchased for the new business. A quick drive to a private air strip, and the Blakemores were headed back to the United States. Odessa sat close to Saxton, as he placed his arms across her shoulder. The tears which had been threatening to overtake her earlier, found a path of least resistance and began to spew forward.

  It was the third time Saxton had seen his wife cry anything other than tears of joy. He held her close as her small body racked itself with shudders to spill out the bitterness which had filled her belly. Had he not put on a brave face to be strong for her, Saxton would have cried as well.

  The imagination can conjure up images ten times worse than what could actually be real. Although Odessa had not seen what the men had done to the boy in that building, it had been enough to make Lizzie castrate him. The child had also been bleeding, which is what made Odessa cry. What was in store for the girl may have been worse. The tears were for the children yet to be rescued, if there was even such a hope.

  Saxton’s heart was heavy as well because he had witnessed Rentería decapitate a man then sit down and have lunch. He and Rentería had watched as Mateo beat a woman with a whip, then have sex with her as her limp body hung between the two poles she had been strung between. None of these things had made Victorio Rentería flinch. Today he saw one of the most fearless and ruthless men in Mexico shed tears for children who were not his own. Telling them to get on the second thing moving, was a signal that they would be killed on the first flight out. Letting Saxton know it would have been tomorrow; they both knew they had to leave tonight.

  One thing had become perfectly clear, he did not miss this life. He cherished the one he had made with Odessa. There was nothing that could get him back into the field.

  Chapter 11 – Lions, and Ligers, and Smugglers,

  Oh My!

  Day Four – Houston

  The debriefing was simple as Saxton shared the photos of the men who had followed them. The agents in Panama had sent the photos of the children, skipping the images of the damage done to the boy as well as the contents of what they pumped from the little girls’ stomach; none of it had been food. Odessa kept her chin up high as she listened to other atrocities the children had shared via recorded interviews. She did not embarrass her husband by crying or asking the agents to turn it off or running from the room in tears.

  Agent Roget said, “At first, Blakemore, I thought you had lost your touch. I sent you in to gather information of arms smuggling and you two stumble across the biggest human trafficking and smuggling ring on the planet!”

  The man almost seem giddy as he recounted some of the details to the Special Agent in charge, ending with, “Sir, they encountered lions, and tigers, and smugglers!”

  SAIC Phillips, the leader of the trafficking division, added in an “Oh my!” to lighten the mood, but Odessa had stopped smiling a day ago. Maybe it had been too much and Saxton should have never agreed for them to do this. Phillips shifted gears and flashed a photo of Lizzie Perkins on the screen. “By all accounts, there is no hard evidence to connect her to any real crime. She is wanted for questioning in Georgia for a series of murders of a bunch of rich white men who were all members of some exclusive sex club.”

  The man seem too winded by every sentence he spoke, he continued, “As far as we know, she was hired by some group called The Women’s Justice League to go in and recover the twelve-year-old girl, Amanda Stallings.”

  Odessa sat up in the chair. If Lizzie were these children’s champion then she could be their beacon. For the second time since seeing Rentería, she spoke. “The traffickers are using the old rum-runner lines to funnel these children and people through their networks. I say we locate the channels and blow up the mother fracking lines along with every pedophile and kiddie-diddler in the bunch!” She said it with such calmness that Phillips and Roget both stood with their jaws agape staring at her. She may have been mad, but she was still a lady. Her mama taught her that a lady didn’t swear in the company of men.

  “Saxton and I only need a day or so on the soil. I say you book us on a cruise in a few months, as if we are traveling again to shop. We locate the lines, put a big red bulls-eye on them, and your people come in and do the rest.”

  She rose from the table and the other agents stood, “Saxton, darling, I will wait for you in the hall. Please don’t be too long; we do have to get to Houston for the festivities at your parent’s.”

  When she left, the men all looked at Saxt
on, but it was Roget who said something, “We see now why you stayed married to her. Man! What a woman! Does she have a sister?”

  “Yes, but her sister is a lot more like their Mama.” He smiled as he gathered his items, “Gentlemen, you heard the lady. Is there a bird ready to get us to Houston? I need to take my wife away from all of this for a while.” Saxton Blakemore told the agents he would be in touch when they were ready to head out for the cruise.

  He knew it would be next year. Right now, they had to lay low and get off the radar. The next few conversations were going to be about the business.

  It was a nice flight back to Houston, and after all was said and done, Odessa didn’t even mind spending some time with Grandma Patsy. Most of the family had been bustling about the ranch when they returned, and Odessa was really happy just to be away from weird men following them. If the only the same could be said about Saxton’s Grammy. She was left alone with Grandma Patsy. The old woman followed her about the house as if she were trying to pocket the family silver. This prompted Odessa to grab a few magazines and sit out on the patio with a cold glass of lemonade. Before long, she had fallen asleep.

  She was having the oddest dream about a pride of white lions when an image of the old fortune teller appeared, slapped her face and told her to wake up. Odessa jumped up off the chaise lounge and found Grandma Patsy standing over her. She placed a wrinkled finger over her lip, asking her to be quiet and follow her. Odessa rose slowly and followed the old lady into the back door.

  Grandma Patsy whispered, “As far as I can tell, there are three of them.” She pointed out the window and Odessa saw the man with a snake tattoo on his hand from Panama. The second man was coming around the back door, and the third man was rattling the front. The look on Odessa’s face asked the question, but Grandma Patsy answered, “The men are off on an evening ride, the ladies went to the store, and no one is here but me and you. Lucy gave the help the night off.”

  Odessa grabbed a knife and a frying pan, “Ms. Patsy, call 911, leave the phone off the hook and head into the den and hide in a closet. My gun is upstairs, I don’t have time to go and get it.” She looked about for her phone, but it too was upstairs. If she was going to die today, she was going to put up one hell of a fight. Grandma Patsy had left the room. Odessa had to admit, she was mighty spry for a 79-year-old woman.

  Odessa crouched down behind the kitchen door, caught the first man unaware with a surprise attack with a cast iron skillet, knocking him unconscious. The second man backed up a bit when she threw the knife and it lodged in his stomach; but now she was out of ammo. The last guy was far too big for her to try to take on, she would have to make a run for it.

  The man was so large he filled up the door way, and that is when she heard Grandma Patsy yell, “Get down, Girl!”

  Odessa did as her father had taught her, she dropped to the floor and rolled to the left. Hesitation can get you hurt. The boom of the shotgun wasn’t as shocking as watching the big man’s chest explode. The octogenarian walked over the dead man and poked him a few times with the barrel of the shotgun. Grunts and groans could be heard from the man Odessa had stabbed, and she quickly found some rope to tie up the one she had knocked out.

  A new respect was had for Saxton’s Grandma; she was a true Texas gal. She had also saved Odessa’s life. “Ms. Patsy, if they had gotten me, your family line would still be intact and unsullied.”

  The look she gave Odessa made her flinch, “I don’t care what color your skin is girl! You are a Blakemore! No one messes with the Blakemores!”

  It was as close as Odessa was going to get to acceptance by the grand dame, and she was okay with it. “I guess these fellas also learned you don’t mess with Texas.”

  Grandma Patsy threw the double barrel shotgun over her shoulder and stepped over the dead man’s body as she made her way to the front door to greet the police officers. She chuffed like the white liger, “No, those bastards learned you don’t fuck with Grandma Patsy!”

  Chapter 12 – Say Goodnight, Mrs. Blakemore

  Sheriff Jep Browning arrived at the Blakemore ranch followed by lots of sirens, the coroner, and some media. Odessa was applying pressure to stop the bleeding of the man she had stabbed when she heard the thundering hooves of the horses. Saxton’s horse was lathered and panting because he had ridden it hard to get back to the house. The paramedics took over for Odessa, whose hands were covered in the man’s blood. Her eyes were wide as Saxton gathered his wife in his arms.

  “It’s okay, Baby. What happened?”

  She managed to remain calm as she explained to the small crowd; the men came from nowhere. She took care of the first two, by knocking one unconscious. Sheriff Browning was cuffing him and taking him away, but most of the eyes were focused on the man on the patio who looked like an outtake from the movie Alien. The Sheriff listened to Odessa explain it to her husband, and asked, “Well, who shot this poor bastard?”

  Grandma Patsy, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on a highball, yelled, “I did, Jep! The nerve of him coming into my home and trying to hurt a member of our family.” From there, Grandma Patsy went into an oration of how her father had built the house. “I grew up in this house from the time I was four years old. I raised my children in this house. Lucy raised her children in this house.” Everyone grew quiet, “I will be damned if I allow some snake-tattoo-wearing riff-raff to walk in here and disturb what we have built.”

  Saxton pushed Odessa over to the sink to wash her hands. Bobby Ray was assessing the damage to the door, while Connard stood there staring at the pool of blood on the bricks. Bobby Ray punched him in the arm, “Go find Rodrigo, and have him come up and clean up this mess before your Mama and the ladies get back here.” Connard did not move. Bobby Ray, a man that rarely raised his baritone up an octave, shouted at his son, “Move, Son, now!” Connard stumbled and took off towards the barn.

  “Dusty,” Bobby Ray yelled to his brother, “get those horses to the barn and get them cooled down.” He eyed his son. Both he and Lucy were grateful when they found out he had left the agency, had gotten married and settled down. Bobby Ray had reservations that a delicate flower like Odessa could handle the scum that may come back at times to haunt his son. She had held her own and tried to protect her grandmother-in-law, Patsy. It was almost comical. His mother-in-law was an entirely different type of woman.

  Saxton kneeled in front of his grandmother, taking both of her hands into his, “I married her, Grammy, because she reminded me of you. Tough, loving, and fiercely protective.” His eyes were watery as he choked out the next words, “She saved my life and you saved hers. I love you so much, Grammy.” He kissed his grandmother and held her tight.

  Grandma Patsy rubbed his cheek, laughing, “I know, Saxie, she tried to protect me as well.” They both broke into laughter. The mere thought of anyone trying to take on Patsy Sterling was a hoot. Bobby Ray had seen enough.

  “Son,” he said as he placed his hand on Saxton’s shoulder, “take your wife upstairs. In our bathroom, in the medicine cabinet, is your Mama’s happy supply. Give her half a Valium, and put her to bed. The rest, we will sort out in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Saxton replied as he took Odessa by the hand and led her up the stairs.

  Bobby Ray poured Grandma Patsy another drink. He told the Sheriff that it was a simple incident of breaking and entering. “Patsy defended our home,” he told Sheriff Browning as he ushered him out the door. It was not enough for the Sheriff.

  “I need to know if they were after Saxton’s wife, or if this was some kind of retribution. These men are Hispanic and your son just returned from Panama. Is Saxton involved in something illegal, Bobby Ray?”

  Bobby Ray was getting angry, “My son is still employed by the government of this great nation and is in good standing with his job. These men broke the law by coming onto my property and attempted to break into our home. I will say it for the last time— Patsy defended our home and my daughter-in-law. An
ything else you want to know, you can speak with our attorney.”

  He closed the door and went back to check on his mother-in-law, who was telling Dusty she had channeled Annie Oakley. She had saved Odessa’s life, which was all that mattered to Bobby Ray. As much as the old woman chaffed his scruff, he was happy they were okay.

  Saxton started the shower and helped remove the blood-soaked clothing from his wife’s small frame. “Saxton, I feel like the harbinger of death, like some magnet for bad luck or something.” He held her hand as she stepped into the shower and he quickly disrobed and joined her. He still smelled like his horse, the dry plains, and a bucket of sweat.

  “I think,” he said as he lathered up the oversized sponge to wash her back, “that you are just the opposite.”

  “How so? Because right now, I am not seeing it,” she whimpered. He hummed as he created the soapy circles with the sponge on her back, moved lower to her glutes, then the back of her thighs.

  “It was sheer luck that you stumbled upon the fortune teller, which led you to the white liger, which led you to the children. The children led us to information about the largest human trafficking ring on the planet.” Saxton turned her in the shower to face him as he soaped her breast, flat stomach and the front of her thighs. He tapped at her knee and she raised her leg, allowing him to use the sponge to wash her special place. “Damn, you are simply magnificent.”

  “I think the old fortune teller came and found me, Saxton,” she said as she eyed him and his quickly changing body.

  He handed her the sponge as he used his hands to explore her body. Odessa made an attempt to reciprocate the cleaning, but by the time she washed down to his belly, he was ready for something more than a rinsing. The showerhead was detached as he hurriedly rinsed them off, turned off the shower, and stepped out to dry off. Odessa wasn’t fully finished when he hoisted her off the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist.