by Aqua Allsopp
Knowing that Jake had eyes on him, he slyly moved his thumb below his chin, from one side of his neck to the other. Signaling to Jake that these are bad guys and that he and Lindsey are dead if he or law enforcement didn’t do something.
Jake saw the signal and looked for a clear shot of the Hispanic man with the rifle. But on such a small boat there was no way to shoot the gunman without risking shooting Lindsey or Randy; the way they were currently positioned. For now, all that Jake could do was to keep his eyes on the situation and wait for an opportunity.
The taller Hispanic, the burning flag waver, became charming again. “I’m Jose and this is my friend Juan. He’s the strong silent type. Probably your type pretty lady,” he said, while looking at Lindsey as if he were a starving man and she were the last ham sandwich on the boat.
Jose continued to say, “We just need you to take us a little further up the lake to our ride and then we’ll let you and your student go back to school, okay?” Jose said with sarcasm and disdain.
“Okay, how far up do you need to go?” Randy asked.
“Just drive the boat and I’ll tell you when to stop.”
“I want to let my student out here with a radio. She can call somebody to pick her up after we’ve gotten up the river a bit.”
“I was born at night, but not last night. No, your student stays here with us.”
Randy noted that Jose was born, or at least grew up in the U.S., and may have spent some time in the military, because of the expression he just used, about being born at night.
His nearly perfect English, mannerisms, and the fact that he barely rolled his letter Rs, when he spoke, were all tell tales.
A native-born Mexican would have a very prominent rolling R when he spoke Spanish, and his hand gestures would be—different.
And it’s doubtful someone born and raised in Mexico would be able to understand American idioms well enough to maintain the English banter that Jose and Randy had going.
Randy carefully used hand signals to relay intelligence to Jake. Randy had a feeling that he and Lindsey stumbled upon compadres (compatriots) of La Familia (The Family).
La Familia (The Family) or LFM, is one of Mexico's newest drug cartels. What Randy knew about La Familia is that it’s a Christian fundamentalist, narco-gang based in the western part of the State of Michoacan, Mexico. In the past few years they have been moving and selling Meth in a few of the campgrounds in the area, transporting through mountain trails; but never on a well-traveled tourist trail like Oberlin pass.
The LFM is extremely violent. They’ve cut off the heads and limbs of their perceived enemies and even lead massacres against Mexican police, Army, and Marines.
If these guys are with La Familia, he and Lindsey are already dead. Randy signaled LFM to Jake. Jake received the message loud and clear and whispered a desperate, “shit, La Familia,” to himself.
Jake and Randy might be just regular guys nowadays, but they keep on top of what’s going on around them. Force of habit, training, the realization that something dangerous could pop-off even in the most bucolic of locations were some things that they talked about and planned for.
That’s why Jake’s go-bag was prepared, and he was able to react to Lindsey’s call so quickly, and without losing his head.
Jake used Carl to lead the local law enforcement to his position. He was surprised to see not only the Sherriff but also DEA and FBI arrive on the scene together.
For safety, they had Jake put down his weapon and handcuffed him for a few minutes. They took his ID, name, and address, to make sure that he could recall the details on his driver’s license, and ran him through the database.
While they were checking him out the Sherriff said, “You’re pretty sharp Jake, getting a drone in the air, and monitoring the situation. Are you law enforcement?
“No,” Jake replied. Randy and I were in SF together. We went through the Special Forces (SF) selections course and did tours in Afghanistan and Iraq together. Randy’s my best friend.” Jake said.
With Jake’s name coming back clean for warrants and his address checking out, the Sherriff took off the handcuffs and deputized him so that he could continue to help with the operation.
The FBI also ran an ENTNAC (personnel security investigation) check and saw that Jake and Randy’s security clearances were higher than theirs. Having retired from the military and still occasionally working for Department of Defense (DoD) contractors, Jake and Randy were privileged to high-level intelligence. The FBI Agents were impressed with the two civilians and were happy to have a trained combat veteran like Randy on that boat.
The reason the FBI and DEA got there so fast is because they planned to raid a local campground in Comal County, just outside of the Oberlin pass where the LFM Cartel’s American contacts had been selling Mexican methamphetamine.
“These guys that hijacked the boat and kidnapped your friend and his student, must’ve gotten tipped off to the planned raid while they were en route,” the lead DEA Agent, named McFadden, said.
“And now they’re looking for a plan B, and maybe safe passage to another distributor in Austin or San Antonio? Jake asked.
“You got it,” said McFadden. How good a sharpshooter are you Jake? “
“I can get it done Sir!”
“Good, we might need you until we can get our own guys in place.”
The skies began to darken as the weather rolled in. Randy had planned to bring Lindsey back to the training center early because of the potential for rain, high winds, thunder, and lightning. Weather on the lake can sometimes get up to gale force winds.
“Hey Jose, I’m going to need to make some changes to the sails now that the wind has changed,” Randy said, trying to maintain his easy going character.
“Go ahead Dude, do your thing, sail this mother!” Jose said, trying to maintain his “good guy” demeanor while Juan sat looking imposing.
“Douse the jib and take the helm.” Randy yelled to Lindsey, over the roar of the wind, rain, and thunder.
Lowering the jib sail would slow the boat down in the high winds. And giving Lindsey the helm meant that she could steer, but Randy would really be controlling the boat since he had control of the large, mainsail.
Randy explained to Jose how their situation had just become dangerous because of the weather. He asked Jose and Juan to sit in the center of the cockpit and to stay out of their way if they didn’t want to drown.
He also wanted to give Jake or whoever, a better shot at two fixed targets. Realizing that Jake couldn’t keep his drone airborne in the high wind, Randy knew that he was going to have to save himself and Lindsey if he couldn’t get the boat back to Jake’s position on the mountain at Oberlin pass.
Randy began calling out commands to Lindsey. Although she was in the Captain’s position, her lack of experience meant that he needed to lead the boat from the mainsail position. “Prepare to tack—tack,” Jake yelled, again and again as they moved down the lake to Jose’s ride. Then, he and Lindsey raced across to the high-side of the boat repeatedly.
Back and forth they moved across the boat in sort of a frantic dance that Jose and Juan first found amazing, then mind-numbingly boring, and began to ignore their movements. Lindsey had a feeling what Jake might be planning to do, so when she saw a large wave she steered right for it.
Everyone in the boat popped up out of their seat when the little J/22 crested the wave. At that moment Jake saw his opportunity and swung the boom wildly across the boat, making sure to duck.
With Lindsey already beyond the booms reach, at her position on the tiller, the heavy, metal bar that holds up the foot of the mainsail swung hard, carried by the wind and pitch of the boat, then “wham”, the boom cracked against the heads of Jose and Juan.
Jose was knocked overboard and into the raging lake. Juan was unconscious and bleeding in the cockpit.
Randy cleated the mainsail and used the jib halyard to hog-tie Juan, while yelling to Lindsey to tack back t
o where Jose fell out of the boat.
After securing Juan in the cockpit, Randy got back on the mainsail and helped Lindsey to tack back to Jose’s guesstimated position. They scanned the water and didn’t see any sign of Jose and were about to give up looking when they saw his lifeless body wedged against a piece of driftwood.
Lindsey managed to get close enough for Randy to pull Jose into the boat by his belt. After a few hard slaps on the back, Jose coughed up water and began gasping for air.
Without mercy for his near drowning, Randy hog-tied Jose and threw him into the cabin. He wanted to separate Jose from Juan to keep them from conspiring or untying each other’s ropes.
The Sherriff, Agents, and Jake were surprised when radio silence was broken and Randy gave them a sitrep on the boat’s status. Lindsey and Randy sailed back to Jake’s position, secured the boat as best as they could, and traveled back to the sailing school by SUV, with the DEA.
“Hold up a minute.” DEA Agent, McFadden moved in closer to take a good look at Juan before he was put into the transport vehicle.
“Hey, I know this guy!” The look of recognition and the act of recalling a nearly forgotten memory flashed across McFadden’s face.
“Okay, that clown over there, pointing to Jose, “He ain’t even Mexican. I bet you he’s Puerto Rican, but American born. This guy right here”, pointing to Juan, “he’s with La Familia.”
If they sent him across the border they were trying to take somebody or some people out.
“Are you sure about that McFadden?” The Sherriff asked.
“He’s an assassin, he used to be tight with Nazario Moreno—El Mas Loco (The Craziest), before the Mexican Marines killed him. Yeah, we’re gonna have fun talking to you Mano Rojo (Red Hand),” McFadden said, using Juan’s cartel name.
Randy and Lindsey sat in the back seat of a black, DEA, SUV. They were wrapped in aluminized, Kapton, warming blankets, holding hands, with minds racing.
Arriving at the sailing center they both couldn’t wait for a moment alone. They were finally placed in a cold conference room and handed hot cups of coffee to warm up.
As soon as the doors closed, Randy took Lindsey into his arms and they both began to release the fear and relief that was pent up in their bodies.
Lindsey began to cry and freak out a little, saying over and over, “we survived, we survived!”
“Yes, we’re okay, you’re okay Lindsey. We made it.” Randy said as he frantically kissed her forehead, nose, cheeks and then lips. Lindsey melted into the long kiss.
“I’ve got you,” Randy said. “I’ve got you and I’m never letting go, so ditch that sailor. Tell him you have a soldier now, and this soldier’s holding on to you forever.”
Randy smiled and kissed Lindsey hungrily as he spoke. An elated Lindsey felt the same way. She knew in that instant that she found the man she was looking for, just as Randy knew he found the woman of his dreams.
The couple was enjoying their lovely embrace when the room’s door flung open.
“Dude, you made it. I thought I lost you, man, I thought I lost you.” Jake said as he hugged his friend, sandwiching little Lindsey in the middle.
“Help, I can’t breathe Lindsey squeaked.”
“Oh sorry sweetheart, you must be Lindsey,” Jake said as he hugged Lindsey tightly.
“Yes, nice to meet you, Jake.” Lindsey laughed while being bear-hugged by a stranger—Jake.
Jake released Lindsey, looked her up and down and said—“Dude if you don’t freakin’ marry this girl I will kill you! She’s a ride or die chick for real!”
Randy and Lindsey laughed at Jake’s words.
“She was all Xena Warrior Princess out there, on the water, with the Mexican cartel, and she handled her business like a champ!” Jake continued.
Lindsey blushed at the compliment then looked at Randy to see his reaction.
After laughing hysterically, Randy suddenly became serious, taking Lindsey’s hand and pulling her towards him he said, “you heard the man, I guess you have to marry me.” They kissed again, just as Agent McFadden entered the room.
“Uh, what did I miss?” Agent McFadden asked.
“We’re getting married!” Lindsey and Randy replied.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 2 of 15
What the Heart Wants
Description
An exciting, 21st Century, clean, Western romance set in the wide open spaces of Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park. We explore love and romance at different stages of life, and what it means to be family.
In What the Heart Wants, we take a hard look at how a person’s central life decisions can affect their lives in unimaginable ways. Through the haze of what many call the worst military conflict in a generation—the second battle of Fallujah, we witness the real cost of war on the active duty service members, the veteran, and the families and communities of those who serve.
Ride an emotional roller coaster as our characters deal with love, family, mental illness, PTSD, veteran issues, nationalism, bigotry, romance, cultural differences, and faith as the story unfolds in the unique beauty of the American West. Explore our rich and complicated characters as they traverse love in all of its many forms.
*****
It was an unusually cold night in Fayetteville, pronounced Fedville by North Carolina natives and long-time residents like my husband Charlie and me. We were sitting in the great room watching Charlie’s favorite, the World War II channel as I call it, but otherwise known as the History Channel. Wilhelm Keitel was signing the German Instrument of Surrender when I was surprised to hear the ding-dong of our doorbell since we didn’t often get visitors that time of night.
“Is that the doorbell?” I absentmindedly asked Charlie as I stood up from my perch on the double recliner loveseat, not noticing that, as usual, Charlie had already fallen asleep. “It’s nearly 11:00 pm, who the devil could that be?” I wondered out loud.
Charlie, in the opposite recliner, only snorted and barely opened his eyes. Our little cul-de-sac is so quiet and safe that I opened the door without looking through the peephole. I can’t be troubled with that thing, but I had such a start that I could hardly believe my eyes.
When the door opened, I felt the cold of the night through my flannel nightgown and terry cloth robe. I began screaming, “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, Charlie, Charlie come quick!" I was screaming and sobbing uncontrollably from the shock of what I found on the other side of the door.
Charlie awoke from his sleep with a jolt and ran to the front door as fast as his 60-year old paratrooper’s legs could carry him, not knowing what he was going to see when he arrived. As his tired eyes focused on the door he stopped in mid-stride and said, almost in a whisper, “Dear God”!
My husband, Charles Anderson, was a retired sergeant major in the U.S. Army. We met early in his military career when I was a nurse at the Womack Army Medical Center at Fort Bragg. Charlie fell head over heels in love with me right away. He said it was because I was a beauty, but truth be told, I think it was because I cooked like his mom—downhome and Southern fried. It wasn’t until I was faced with the prospect of him leaving North Carolina that I realized how much I loved Charlie. Charlie proposed and I went from being Martha Louise Scott to Mrs. Martha Anderson after knowing him for only six months. After 30-years of wedded bliss, I know that I made the right choice.
I had no regrets about giving up my nursing career to follow Charlie around the world with the Army because becoming a wife and mother gave me my pride and joy. My baby girl Sheridan.
“Sheridan Louise Anderson, please tell me you are not wearing that to work. That is not appropriate dress for the classroom. Besides, it’s freezing outside. Charlie talk to your daughter,” I said as I buttered toast and poured the morning coffee.
“Not me, I’m staying out of this. You hens can peck each other to death as much as you want. I’ll be right over here in my neutra
l corner,” replied my husband Charlie. The sun shone through the kitchen window, reflecting a summerlike light off the yellow kitchen walls giving the illusion of a bright summer’s day on a wintery morning.
“Oh mom, I love you but you cannot still pick out my clothes for me like I’m 10-years-old. I know you think spaghetti straps are too sexy for work, but it’s fine, really. Besides, I have a date with Daryl tonight and I need to do a quick change after work,” my daughter Sheridan said as she wiggled and gyrated across the kitchen as she talked about her date with her boyfriend Daryl. She looked as happy as I’ve ever seen her.
“Alright, alright, I know how it is when young love is in the air, but at least, pull your tank top up and close your sweater until after work,” I said as I tugged on her clothes trying to impose my will on the headstrong Sheridan.
“Goodbye mom,” Sheridan said with a smile, a roll of the eyes, and a sweet kiss on my cheek.
“Have a good day daddy and don’t drive mom too crazy today,” she said with a kiss to her father’s forehead.
“I’ll do my best but I don’t promise anything,” he replied, over the top of the Fayetteville Observer.
As soon as Sheridan was out of the kitchen, Charlie jumped up, grabbed me around the waist, and began playfully whispering in my ear. Sheridan could hear me giggle and shouted, “Get a room you two.”
I imagined that Sheridan hoped that she and Daryl would be an old married couple like her dad and me someday, as she closed the front door behind her.
We had Sheridan late in life. For a while we thought we would never have children, but then right after Charlie returned from Operation Desert Storm, I got pregnant. Sheridan grew up as an Army brat. As much as she idolizes her dad’s service, I’m surprised, but happy that she didn’t follow in her father’s footsteps because she’s a great elementary school teacher. Her students love her and I think her boyfriend Daryl does too. What more could a mother want?