by E. C. Towers
“I know Linda, and I'm sorry, but you have to stay. Derek needs your help right now.”
“What? You just got him arrested. You worked your ass off for two years to bring him down. Why would you want him helped?” Linda asked, dumbfounded at her request.
“Linda, I didn't lie about everything. Yes, I lied to you about being an undercover cop. I'm sorry. I am an undercover cop, and yes, I have been working long to gather enough evidence to bring him and his friends down. But that doesn't mean I lied to you when I said I was in love with him.”
Linda was stunned as Dalila looked her in the eyes, pleading for Linda to look at them and see that she was telling the truth.
“You know how Derek is. No woman can resist him. I'm a cop, I'm not a robot,” she said. “And I struggled with my conscience the entire time, and then you came along, and I... well, I just want you to know. I didn't lie about my feelings for you either.”
This time, it was Dalila's turn to look away.
"I didn't want to turn him in Linda, and you have to believe me. I put them off for a month, trying to think up excuses for why we couldn't raid him yet. A lot of that was because of you. I didn't want you to get caught up in this mess.”
“But I could have let me leave the first time I said I was going, but you wanted me to stay.”
“I told you, Linda, I didn't want them to arrest Derek, and you were the only reason they were holding off.”
“I see,” Linda said quietly.
“That was one of the reasons, but the other was because I wanted to be with you. When I told you that I wanted to leave with you, I meant it. I did want to leave with you,” Dalila confessed to her, “but, as you can see now, that would have been impossible.”
“So why stay now? For what? To help Derek? How can I help Derek?”
Linda was choosing not to react to what Dalila had just said and focused on the facts.
“The cartel lords suspected that the police were following Derek closely, so their leader prepared a trap so that when we raid his house, all evidence to be seized will point to Derek as being the true head of the snake.”
Dalila had overheard this tale from a bathroom conversation at one of the business parties Derek had brought her to. One of the chatty wives had drunk too much and visited the women’s room, unaware of Dalila presence, as she remained silent in the stall.
“It's Derek that needs to watch out, you know?" the woman had slurred, taking another sip of the glass of red wine she carried with her. “Let's just say Derek is going to be shit out of luck if the cops ever come. It's him they're going to go after, not my Ricardo.”
The tale was divulged in seconds, but it was the lead responsible for Dalila’s promotion, the first chance she ever had at a real career. Over the next few days, she had investigated the claim, sneaking peeks into their emails, their texts to find evidence of the plan. Ricardo had been slowly working Derek's name into his dealings for months, making him lead contact for all his businesses, letting the other guys know to answer to Derek while Ricardo slowly faded into the background.
“I abhor everything Derek does, Linda. My father died during crossfire between gangs fighting over this filth. He died in my arms at seven years old. I swore revenge. But my crosshairs are pointed at Ricardo, and I will do whatever it takes to bring him down.”
Linda looked over at Jacob, desperate to have anyone help her with this decision.
“Let's go, Linda. You don't need this. We have a chance to get away,” he tried to reason with her. “She's just using you to get what she wants. If she felt anything for you, then why lie? Why keep you in the dark for so long?”
Dalila glared at Jacob.
“What the fuck do you know about it? You don't know shit. You're just some frat boy douchebag who's gotten into this because your friend was a stalker.”
“Yeah, I'm the frat boy douchebag who managed to break onto your property twice without you knowing,” Jacob smugly answered.
Their bickering was all it took for Linda to make her decision.
Linda pushed Jacob out of the way and slammed the door before he could get in.
“El Muelle de Los Muertos. ¡Rapido, por favor!” she told the taxi driver.
19
Ray Of Hope
Linda pushed the glass doors that opened out to on the owner’s deck from her bedroom. She laid back on a lounge chair and reveled in the feel of the cool silk covers. The sea breeze caressed and massaged her, and it was the most relaxed she had felt in a long time.
After leaving the whole fiasco behind, Linda had arrived back at her yacht ordered their immediate departure for home. She had spent an hour discussing the possibility and tactics of a tail with Captain. His assurances that no one would be able to sneak up on them relieved most of anxiety, which finally disappeared altogether after a few glasses of Viognier.
They returned to her slip at the Driftwood Cove Harbor and reveled in how good it felt to be back on her home turf. She was comforted to know that, no matter what happens when she gets to Driftwood Cove, all her decisions would hers and no one else's. She also made a note to keep her heart on lockdown after all the drama that had happened between her and both Dalila and Hardie. Linda did not wish to get involved with anyone in that way ever again. The last three emotional attachments had left her cynical to love; she moved swiftly from the simple need for Hardie to a lustful want of Jessica, into a yearning love for Dalila. It hampered her ability to make smart decisions. The fact that she was out here in the middle of the ocean trying to outrun an ex-boyfriend proved that this was true.
Love and lust were shelved and put away.
And after making that decision, she fell asleep to the gentle sound of waves lightly tapping the side of her ship.
* * *
Jacob walked aimlessly up and down the port dock. Why had he come here? Did he think that after she left him stranded at the hotel she would wait around for him before taking off? He knew deep down she wouldn't be here, but there was a tiny ray of hope that, against a miracle of all miracles, Linda had waited or would come back for him.
The temperature steadily got hotter and hotter as the sun rose and heated up the cool morning air. Jacob could feel his pale skin slowly burn. He had to get out of here somehow. He decided he would give Will a call to see if he could get a plane ticket for him to fly out of there back to Driftwood Cove by tomorrow.
He spotted a hole-in-the-wall seaside bar that was wedged on the same corner where fish was unloaded. The smell of slightly decaying fish and cigarettes hit his nostrils as he walked into the bar. There were dockworkers huddled in a few corners of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. They all glared as Jacob took a seat on one of the wooden stools at the bar.
Being so close to the ocean, it felt like every surface of the bar was slightly damp. He ordered a shot of whiskey, hoping to put his frayed nerves at ease before calling his brother. Dealing with the cartel, no matter how indirectly, proved to be far more unnerving than he had been prepared for, and the whole affair had left him tense and paranoid during the past few days. He also wanted to squash all feelings he had had for Linda, especially after she abandoned him. She had been nothing but problems ever since he laid eyes upon her. It wasn't worth it.
He took a swig of his whiskey and felt the delicious burn in his throat. The slightly salty taste of the glass accentuated the flavor of the whiskey, and he ordered another. Probably not a good idea on an empty stomach, but he welcomed the relaxing effects that the whiskey was already providing.
The men inside the bar had already tired of his presence and resumed smoking and talking quietly amongst each other. Jacob was on his third whiskey, promising himself that it would be the last one. He waved his credit card at the bartender.
The bartender barely looked up from the newspaper he was reading.
"Solo efectivo," he said.
“What?”
Jacob's Spanish was nonexistent, and his only form of communication whil
e he had stayed in Mexico was through hand gestures and speaking loudly to them in simple English, as if they would somehow understand better if he was breaking out one of their eardrums. He finally figured out that most of the tourist vendors spoke English and communicated mostly with them. Jacob looked around the bar. No one spoke English here.
As if cluing in on this, the bartender rubbed his fingers together, indicating that he needed cash.
“Fuck,” Jacob muttered as he looked desperately at the one lone dollar left to pull from his pocket.
“Do you have an ATM around here? I don't have any...”
“I got it.”
He heard the familiar voice behind him an arm reached from behind him and plopped down some cash for the bartender.
Jacob spun around, nearly toppling over his glass on the table.
“Hey man, what's up?”
Jacob blinked his eyes to make sure he inebriated eyes were seeing more than the Whiskey.
“Tim?”
“Surprised?”
Jacob still couldn't quite believe what he saw. It was like seeing a ghost, as he had been almost certain that Tim was dead. But there he was standing before Jacob, though it was clear that Tim wasn't the same man he’d known. He seemed to have aged six years in the last three months since his disappearance. His hair was disheveled, and Jacob noticed that there were more silver streaks in it. The eyes were bloodshot as if he had stayed up for three days straight drinking at this bar.
“How did you..?”
“You're not a hard man to find, Jacob. Not exactly James Bond.”
If Jacob had any doubts that the man before him was Tim, the condescending tone of his joke made it all disappear. He and Tim were friends; hell, he had even considered him something of a life mentor when they first met, but he always hated the way Tim spoke to him like he was some stupid kid who didn't know anything. His respect for Tim all but disappeared when he realized the extent of his obsession with Linda. Tim had lied to him about a lot of things.
“Where's Linda?” Tim cut right to the chase.
I don't know, Tim, honest.”
It was the truth, but he didn't offer up anything else beyond that.
“Motherfucker, don't lie to me. I just paid for your drinks.”
“I'm not lying to you, dude. She's gone.”
Tim leaned in close to Jacob until his stinking face was just inches away from him.
“You didn't waste any time trying to get with her after I was gone, huh?” he snarled.
Jacob grimaced at his stinking breath that smelled as if he’d enjoyed a breakfast full of fish chum.
“As soon as I was gone, bam, you were right on her ass. You little piece of shit,” Tim spat out.
He pushed Tim back to get away from his rancid smells.
“I was looking for you dude, I swear.”
“Well, you've done a great job, buddy boy, because I'm here! And you know what? Since you were so good at finding me… alive, no less” Tim cackled, maniacally, “we're going to put your Inspector Gadget skills to work again. Find me Linda.”
“No, I'm not,” Jacob shook his head.
He was done letting this sorry piece of shit push him around. He got up from the stool and stood up. Tim was much taller than him, but Tim was a lanky stick of a guy compared to Jacob’s stoutly muscular build. His legs were developed like tree trunks, used for squeezing victory from his opponents on the high school wrestling mat. He could take Tim down easily, and keep him down if he had to.
To further prove his point, Jacob shoved Tim away, sending his mangled face flying against the tables behind him.
"Even if I knew where Linda was, I wouldn't take your dumb ass to her, anyways.”
Tim stood up and laughed.
"Oh, you might want to rethink that bold statement, tough guy.”
He pulled out a gun from the back pocket of his jeans and pointed it at Jacob.
“Take me to Linda, now,” he smiled.
The End
1
Head Of The Snake
Puerto Vallarta - Two Years Ago
She knew she shouldn’t have been kissing him. It was too early for this. Dalila had just met him a couple of hours ago, but yet here she was, clinging to Derek’s neck and sucking on his bottom lip like it was a piece of candy. She felt him push her against the wall of the hallway where they had stepped into to get away from the party in search of privacy. She could barely hear the chatter of the guests under the sounds of their heavy and desperate breathing. Dalila pressed up against him and let her hands linger on his tight back to grope his strong arms. She could feel his stiff cock on her thigh as Derek kissed down her neck and ran his tongue between the swell of her breasts.
He was a fine specimen of man, and she was secretly thrilled when this high-profile case had been assigned to her. They needed a mole, someone to get in on the inside track of the cartel’s activities. Derek was suspected to be a main player in the operation, if not the ringleader. Luckily for the police department and Dalila, he was single. It had taken her months to befriend Raquel, one of the mafia wives, using a back story of being an independently wealthy traveling artist looking for a little inspiration in Mexico. Raquel was the unofficial socialite of the mafia wives, throwing extravagant parties, one after another, and it was only a matter of time before Dalila was invited to a garden social that Derek also attended.
Derek was dressed in a loose white button-up shirt with the top three buttons undone, giving a peek of his tan chest underneath, and dark jeans. He was completely under-dressed for the event, but his confident presence ensured that no one even noticed his casual attire. Derek was the kind of guy that fit in wherever he went. He was taller than most of the guys there, younger, and was quite the social butterfly with a booming voice that she heard from across the garden before she saw him.
Dalila purposely walked past him to get another drink from the bar. They locked eyes, and the attraction was immediate. He subtly stepped into her path so she would have to walk around him.
“It's nice that you take the time out to dress for the occasion,” Dalila eyeballed his outfit up and down with disdain as she attempted to walk around him. She knew she needed to lure Derek in, but she’d be damned if she would play a dumb bimbo role just to get him.
As it turns out, she played her cards exactly right because her smart comment attracted Derek to her like a moth to a flame.
“Hey now, take it easy on me. I don't have the benefit of a good-looking woman like yourself to help me get dressed,” he smirked and followed her.
“You're smiling as if what you just said was clever,” Dalila stopped and smiled back to show him she was teasing before she moved to walk away again.
“Whoa. Whoa. You insult me and leave? That's very rude. The polite thing to do is to come back, let me insult you in return, and then we’re even. Deal?”
Derek grabbed her hand and gave her no choice but to return to him. Well, this should be interesting, she thought.
Derek positioned her directly in front of him and looked her up and down. She was wearing a form fitting cream dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline that showcased her golden skin.
“Well, I think…” he trailed off as his gaze lingered briefly on her legs and breasts before looking straight into her eyes.
His penetrating stare made her tingle all over.
“I think you're...gorgeous,” he said breathlessly.
“Wow. You're pretty lousy at this,” she said, trying not to swoon over his compliment, but the instant flush in her cheeks betrayed her.
Derek noticed and laughed humbly.
“Sorry, but you're making it hard for me.”
“I'll bet I am.”
He smiled at her thinly veiled innuendo, stood up straight and stuck his hand out.
“I'm better at doing this the old fashioned way. My name is Derek. And your name is..?”
She took his extended hand, surprised at his quick transition in
to a gentleman.
“I'm Dalila.”
“Nice to meet you, Dalila. I would love it if you could join me for a drink over there at the bar.”
“That's where I was headed,” she whispered, though her hard-to-get act faltered against his dazzling smile.
“Great. Maybe you can tell me more about what not to wear,” he chuckled, leading the way to the bar, holding her hand.
The conversation and the drinks flowed easily, and it wasn't long until they were totally drunk on vodka tonics and the sound of each other's voice. Finding that quiet hallway felt only natural, despite her professional apprehension. Dalila thought she was way in over her head as she felt him slip her dress down to kiss her breasts. His skilled, wet tongue circled her nipples as he gently took them into his mouth. He would bite down on them just enough to send a delightful shiver that shot directly to her pussy before he returned to his gentle caress of them with his tongue. He slipped his hand between her legs, expertly pushing her panties to the side and massaging her lips between his fingers. She shut her mouth tightly to keep from moaning as he lightly ran his finger across her clit. He teased her, barely touching it with the tips of his finger while he spread her wetness all over.
He kissed her neck and bit her gently as he slowly plunged his finger into her. Derek bit down a little harder as he finger-fucked her slowly, pushing it in all the way to his knuckle and pulling it free of her tightness over and over, hitting her sweet spot each time. As she became more wet, he gently slid two fingers in and finally heard a small cry of pleasure and surprise escaped her lips. Dalila felt herself open up deliciously, taking them in with each thrust. The pleasure from his fingers and the delightful sensation of pain from his love bite sent her over the edge. She moaned loudly until he put his mouth over hers to muffle her sweet agony.
They didn't finish making love that night, but soon after. Their relationship had basically all been a blur after their first encounter. She wasn't supposed to fall in love, but she did. Dalila still kept up a good front to the department, who were even more impressed with her dedication to the assignment when she accepted Derek’s marriage proposal after having worked "undercover" for a year. What they didn't know was how she had cried tears of joy when Derek got down on one knee and presented her with a ring on a beach lit by the sunset in Bora Bora, and how she had eagerly agreed before he even finished asking her to be his wife.