I made a mental note to tell the DEA H.R. department to make me disappear on Google. A little late for you Eva, don’t you think?
Trembling, Amanda reached into her purse and pulled out her I.D.
Marco snatched it. “Amanda Rogers. 21 Salizar St., Claremesa East. Search it.”
My heart thumped and I fumbled around in my purse, pretending to look around for a license I knew I couldn’t show him. This is happening. For Real.
“I’m waiting for you, pretty one,” Marco said, unsmiling, cigar in one hand, gun in the other, smelling like aged whisky. I sent signals to my brain to come up with something good. Right. Now. Come on synapses, fire!
I had nothing.
“Looks like you need to clean out your damn purse,” Marco taunted as I stalled. “Though I’m not surprised. Most whores are quite unorganized.”
“There are about forty-five results for Amanda Rogers, Jefe. I have no idea which one is hers,” A high sounding male voice says from the corner.
“Fucking idiot. Search the address,” Marco says.
Another voice at the table spoke. “Marco, why are you giving these girls a hard time?” I froze, recognizing the deep timber of the voice immediately.
Corbin. Effing. Young.
Corbin stood up from his seat at the poker table. He was wearing Ray Bans, dark jeans, and a white t-shirt with a deep v-neck that his chest tattoos popped out of.
A tingle ran down my spine as he swaggered over to us. He stopped right in front of me with a smug look on his face. I could see the reflection of my blue tank top and white pants in Corbin’s Ray Bans.
“You know these girls, cabrón?” Marco asked confusedly. I held back my utter shock, and prayed that Corbin wouldn’t out me.
Ned’s words lingered in my mind. Corbin Young is unpredictable as all hell. That’s why we want you to go undercover with him: to keep him under control.
I was learning that controlling Corbin was going to be about as effective as herding a pride of wild lions.
“What are the odds,” Corbin said, raising his sunglasses and revealing his deep blue eyes. He leaned in so he was inches from my body. His smell and even his breath reminded me of what we’d done for hours that night in my hotel room.
“Marco, there’s no need to I.D. this bitch,” Corbin said nonchalantly.
“And why the fuck not?” Marco scowled. Corbin looked me in the eye for a moment before he turned back to Marco.
“I brought this whore home a few weeks ago in Tijuana. Made her mine.” Corbin ran the back of his hand along my hair, tracing the same path that Marco had made with his gun. I straightened my back and stood silent, clenching my jaw. Amanda’s eyes widened, though her mouth was closed.
“Her name’s Alexa. We ain’t gotta worry about her. She’s not hired help—she’s even better. Just a little drug groupie puta. And her friend—” Corbin nodded in Amanda’s direction. “That’s the girl my brother took home that one night.”
Marco broke into a smile. “You slept with her, and you didn’t even know she was coming in here?”
Corbin put his hand on Marco’s back. “Told you I haven’t lost it. How the hell am I supposed to keep track of all the girls in San Diego with beautiful booties that my brother and I take home?” Corbin cocked his head and darted his eyes to me with a smirk.
Marco scratched his head with the nozzle of the gun. “No shit. You’d have to list off half the town!” The guys at the poker table got a kick out of that one and broke into laughter again.
“That mocha skin and those slightly darker features—She’s a rare specimen. You have Mexican blood in you, I can tell. But there’s something else too,” Marco said.
“My dad is Irish and my mom is part Mexican. I like to say I’m ‘Mirish.’” I performed a weird movement resembling a curtsy. I had no idea why.
Marco tucked the gun back into his waistband. “Well shit. Forget about the I.D. thing, Alexa. Corbin’s word is gold. And I gotta ask, Corbin. Can I try her?”
I gulped. Did he just say ‘try me?’ Like I’m a damn cocktail?
Corbin laughed. “Maybe later, Marco. Tonight, she’s mine again. Isn’t that right. Mi amor.” He said the words in a mocking tone, and then slid his hand down my side until his palm landed on the back pocket of my white pants and cupped my ass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marco’s vision dart to where Corbin’s hand was touching me.
Marco took a puff of his cigar and blew out the smoke, shaking his head. “Of course, the Young brothers would have a monopoly on the prettiest girls of the night.” Turning to Corbin, he continued. “You’ll have to show me where you get girls like this sometime.”
“How he got me?” I said, a little taken aback. Why is it always the guy going after the girl? “Oh, please, Corbin didn’t have any special—”
In the middle of my sentence, Corbin pulled my body into his and covered my lips with his own. One of his hands gripped my hips and pulled me into him. As infuriated as I was, electricity coursed from Corbin’s body through mine when he touched me. I reciprocated the kiss with passionate anger bubbling inside me. I dug my nails in to Corbin’s back through his shirt. Why did this asshole get me so fired up?
And so turned on.
Corbin let me go and turned toward Marco. “The problem with this one is she just doesn’t know when to keep her fucking mouth shut.”
“Isn’t that the truth about the pretty ones, cabrón?” Marco said, smiling broadly at me and rubbing his hand on his gun. “Alexa, you are lucky to be the property of such a powerful man. Or else, who knows what would become of you.”
A solid percentage of my brain wanted to slap Corbin Young, the arrogant pig. How dare he!? Touching me, kissing me at will. His property?
And then, of course there was the other part of me: the part that wanted him to jump right back on top of me.
Why on earth do I want him so badly?
Amanda and I’s proposed senior thesis was so spot on. The bigger the asshole, the more I wanted him.
“So what did you girls come in here for any way?” Corbin said. “Jesus, we’ve gotten off topic. Some weed, was it?”
Amanda nodded. It was weird seeing her so much more timid than her normal confident lawyer self.
“Douglass,” Corbin motioned toward the poker table. “Weigh her out an ounce.”
“Give her the special groupie price,” Marco added.
“What’s the special groupie price?” Amanda asked.
One of the men at the table tossed a plastic bag of weed at Corbin. He caught it and handed it to Amanda.
“It means you just have to go enjoy one drink at the bar, before you leave, and the weed is free,” Marco said. “Just don’t forget to grab that drink. Because if we have time we might even join you, if we finish this game soon.”
“Seems like an odd system,” I retorted with a little bit of attitude.
I turned to go but I felt a slap on my rear as I was leaving. I flinched and wheeled around. All the guys at the table were laughing. Corbin and Marco stood equidistant from me, so it could have been either one of them. Corbin winked.
“Good to run into you again, Alexa. Run along now. Man talk,” Corbin growled, an gave me another pat.
I managed to smile on the outside despite how hot my blood boiled on the inside.
“We should get out of this bar, don’t you think?” Amanda said as soon as we were back in the main area. The song Should I Stay or Should I Go played over the loud noise of the bar as the evening crowd rolled in. “That was too crazy. The way Marco was waving the gun around, it was like a scene out of my worst nightmares. Let’s go. I don’t think this one more drink thing is a good idea.”
I was about to open my mouth to agree with her, but as if on cue, a very tall, sandy-blonde haired man walked into the room. Heads turned as the man walked past the crowd, especially given that he was a full six inches taller than almost everyone in the bar. “Hello ladies,” Casey smiled and kissed Amanda
on the cheek, her eyes lighting up like diamonds in the sky.
“Casey!” Amanda said, hugging him. We weren’t leaving just yet.
A cocktail waitress walked over with a whiskey colored drink in her hand. “Hi. Are you Alexa?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
“This manhattan is for you. It’s a house specialty. Compliments of Marco. Enjoy,” she said and handed it to me.
I took a sip. “Oof. It’s quite strong.” I recoiled a little bit at the taste.
“Marco says it’s special for you,” the waitress added.
“It’s fine,” Casey interjected. “He always buys drinks for girls who pick up weed from him personally.”
“Oh yeah? Well does he also wave a gun around in front of them?”
“He did what?” Casey furrowed his brow.
“It’s okay,” Amanda added. “Your brother came to the rescue, so to speak.”
“I guess I’ll finish this one drink,” I said. I didn’t feel like giving Casey a full explanation of Corbin and I’s day full of strange coincidences. “And then I’m heading home.”
I needed to get home, get some rest, and process what just happened. I figured I’d leave these two little lovebirds alone to do their thing.
11
Corbin
After our poker game was over, I walked back into the bar and looked for Eva, but I didn’t see her anywhere. I texted her too, but no response.
So I walked in the cool air along Mission Bay with the lights from the San Diego skyline bright in the night. I had to wonder what Eva thought of the little performance I put on in front of Marco and the guys.
I took a cigarette and lighter out of my pocket. Cupping my hands to block the wind, I lit it and inhaled. I wasn’t normally a smoker, but after the day I’d had I needed a few drags to clear my head. I walked up to the shore’s edge and sauntered onto one of the open docks. Sitting on the edge of the wood, I let my legs hang out over the water as I considered what a crazy day it had been, even by my standards.
Evidently the day wasn’t finished being crazy, because a voluptuous prostitute in high heels and a black dress walked by on the boardwalk and began to hit on me.
“Hey honey! For a cutie pie like you I'll give half price!” she called in an accent that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
"No thanks," I said. The prostitute didn’t waiver. She came closer and sat down next to me as I took another puff.
“Well how about a spare cigarette?” she asked. I handed her one of my Marlboros.
“Corbin,” a female voice spoke behind me. I whipped my head around, burning cigarette held loosely between my lips.
Eva Napleton stood in her pretty little white pants and the blue tank that clung to the voluptuous top half of her body, her blond hair blowing a little in the wind. A street lamp lit her face up.
As if the last twenty-four hours wasn’t already full of enough goddamn coincidences.
“Oh hi there Alexa. I mean Eva. Or should it be Dr. Napleton? I’m so confused these days.” I turned toward the prostitute and cocked my head in the universal get out of here sign. “Take a hike,” I said since I wasn’t sure if she would catch my body language.
The prostitute took off down the boardwalk, her heels clomping on the concrete as she walked off.
Eva came closer and joined me on the dock, letting her feet dangle over the water. She didn’t say anything, though. Maybe she was trying to process everything that was happening just like I was.
I exhaled the smoke from my cigarette toward the sea, and then turned to look her in the eye. To be honest, all I wanted was to rip her clothes off right there, right then, and do the same thing we had done four weeks ago. By the water under a full moon didn’t seem like such a bad place for a round two.
“You are un-fucking-believable, you know that?” I said instead.
Eva glared at me with those sexy damn brown eyes. “Was all that verbal abuse really necessary? Not to mention the physical stuff.”
I squinted at her and took my cigarette out of my mouth for a moment to flick the ashes off.
I just saved this girl’s ass from a certain death and she was giving me a hard time?
“You know what? You’re right. I should have just said, ‘Oh, hello Dr. Eva Napleton! Nice to see you! What did you think of that interview in the DEA today? What a surprise to see you here! You want to play some poker with us!?’”
Eva folded her arms. “Don’t patronize me. Ass.”
I didn’t break off eye contact. “I’m not patronizing you. I’m making a point. Marco and the rest of those guys—they don’t exactly have twenty-first century sensibilities when it comes to gender roles. That’s just how they treat women. I had to make sure I got my point across—that you’re mine and they can’t touch you. If you can’t handle pretending you’re my mistress—well shit, that’s your problem, not mine.”
“But you didn’t have to take it so far!” Eva threw up her hands. “The ass slapping in front of them. Grabbing me however you wanted. Sure, when we’re hooking up that’s all good, but you were treating me like I was a...”
“A whore?” I completed her sentence.
“You know what? Fuck you, asshole.”
Frustrated, she got up and walked a few steps away, giving me the view of the back of her sexy body. The high-heeled prostitute, who was standing about thirty feet away now smoking her cigarette, smiled at her and then glanced at me again.
I got up. “Oh, I’m sorry Eva. Did I pass your hard limits? Did I play a dirty trick on you? Because you seemed pretty okay with it when I was deep inside you in the hotel room that night.”
“Maybe you’re right. I did like it. But that was a one time thing, and you’re still an asshole,” Eva said, pacing back and forth.
“So the fact that I saved your ass by slapping it a little too hard and making sure Marco doesn’t suspect anything makes me an asshole? Spare me the logic. I’m done here. What’s the point in even talking to you? You’re drunk. Besides, you’re right. I am an asshole. I’m an asshole and a lady killer. Always have been, always will be. Sorry I’m not sorry that I tell it like it is.”
The words spewed like venom from my mouth. I didn’t mean for them to sound so scathing, but there was definitely some truth in them.
Eva was still pacing, but I could see her swaying. And it was not windy. Something was not quite right with her.
“I can’t believe the balls you have, saying that I’m drunk. I had two drinks tonight—two. And—”
“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” I interrupted. My phone buzzed and I took it out to look at it.
“Oh, is that another one of your hookups?” she scoffed. I read the message.
“It’s Ned. He says…holy shit!”
My grip tensed as I read the words.
“What it’s say?” she asked.
“He says I’m going undercover with a partner to Mexico. With you.”
Eva nodded, and smiled like a goof. “Ima go undercova with da big daddy.”
I cocked my head, a little confused as to why she was suddenly slurring her words so badly.
“No,” I continued. “This is unacceptable. Marco does not take kindly to outsiders. No way he’ll let you come with me. Besides, we don’t even know how we’re going to find Luis Reyes anyways. I don’t even need you.”
Eva stepped forward and put her hand on my chest.
“Y-Y-You don needa me? Awww. T-t-that’s too baa-aad.” She leaned her chest into mine, and I felt a jolt of adrenaline flow through me as her smell reminded me of our night together. She looked up at me, batted her lashes, and got up on her tippy toes to whisper in my ear. “I don needa you, but I w-w-want you Corbin Youngggg. Again and again and...You make me soooo...”
Trailing off, she got off her tippy toes and tried to smile at me, but something was off.
“Eva, are you okay?”
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and I grabbed her body in a bear
hug to keep her from falling. “You don’t, I don’t…I d-d-don’t,” she slurred her words and her knees wobbled.
“Eva! What’s happening to you?”
Eva’s body went entirely limp, her legs like spaghetti. I scooped her up in my arms.
“Eva? Eva!?”
12
Eva
I opened my eyes to find myself in a bed that I didn’t recognize. Outside, I could hear seagulls. The salty air smell wafted in through an open window. I was as thirsty as someone who had just finished a desert walk.
I sprung up in bed and looked around to see myself in a mostly bare room with white walls and very minimal décor.
Where am I and how the hell did I get here?
My head felt like it had just gotten hit by a ton of bricks.
Dammit. It had probably been since college that I’d found myself in one of those figure-out-what-you-did-last-night adventures.
Last…memory…think…hard.
The bar! Right, I was at the bar with Amanda, and we met Marco. Marco gave me that free drink and then…
My heart pounded as I ran through worst case scenarios. Did Marco take me home? Is this Marco’s place?
I ripped the covers off and saw that I still had on the white pants from last night. My blue tank top rode up my waist. It comforted me to know I probably kept those on. Thank God for tight white pants that were too hard to rip off.
The doorknob rattled and I instinctively dove behind the bed. I looked for sharp objects, anything that could be used to defend myself. I saw an Italian dress shoe size fourteen beneath the bed, so I grabbed it in my hand and peeked my eyes over the top of the bed.
“I didn’t know you were a vampire, scared of the light and all.”
Corbin.
Apparently I couldn’t get rid of this man, no matter what I did.
I stood up and saw him in the doorframe wearing athletic shorts and no shirt, holding two mugs, his v-shape not going unnoticed. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the air. I breathed an audible sigh of relief and dropped the shoe to the ground.
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