“Hey, you wanna hang out with us after practice?” Denton asked, his tall frame leaning against the wall of the side entrance to the gym. He was already wearing the maroon-colored jersey with the number 13 emblazoned on the front which meant that he only had a few minutes to get to the basketball court.
I wiped the sweat off my brow with a small towel, replying, “Where at?”
I’d been running for fifteen minutes. Normally the humidity was low, but for some reason today the air felt sticky and extremely hot.
“We could grab some Mexican food downtown. There’s a new place that opened. Mario said the food’s pretty good. Or we could go try this cool Vietnamese place.” Pushing off the wall, he stretched his legs, and fiddled with his phone, his green eyes moved behind me before landing on mine again, “So, you coming with us?”
I grabbed my cellphone from the right side pocket of my blue workout pants and gestured with my hand, “Hold on.”
For the past two weeks, Denton asked me out at least five times and we’d gone out twice. Going out with him was contingent on Webb’s agreement. I’d meant what I said, that I’d do anything he asked if he kept my father safe.
I texted Webb. Is it okay if I go out with friends tonight?
His response came a second later. Where?
I knew he was nearby. He was never out of reach. He’d revealed to me that there were guys following us when he had me hitched up on his bike. He was still trying to figure out why there was a sudden interest in me and I had no doubts that the minute he knew; he would tell me.
Webb was…a man of very few words, but when they came out of his mouth, he made them worthy of my time.
I knew nothing about him, except for a few random facts I’d gathered on my own, because I spent time googling him on the internet. What I’d gleaned on to were pieces of information that I had no idea if he would ever tell me, and since he’d told me his full name, I was able to do some quick searches and landed on some details about his life. He was the son of a famous German opera singer, a woman named Magdalene Webb. He had a few pictures of himself with his mom at her concerts at Deutsche Opera Berlin and when she was a part of the Bavarian State Opera before her early retirement. In all the pictures with his mother, Webb had looked so young. It seemed like he’d always held an imposing figure, that even at a young age, I estimated him to be 10, 12 years old at the most, his presence was irrefutable. He’d looked at his mother the way a young boy would, with so much pride and love. I gasped at a few pictures because they showed him smiling. When I zoomed in on them, he’d looked so young, boyish, and against his straight white teeth, he had two deep dimples on each cheek. It was impossible to believe that the man who could compete with The Grim Reaper in delivering bad news was the light, airy, khaki and plaid-wearing boy in the pictures. Other than being mentioned under his mom’s web link, there was no additional data available on him. No mention of his dad either.
“Denton, what’s the name of the place? The Vietnamese restaurant,” I clarified, while seeing that Webb had sent another text asking where.
It was a miracle that Denton didn’t remember exactly what happened the night he became The Sleeping Prince under a bunch of trees. He’d vaguely recalled the exact chronology of events and when I saw him the next day for class, I was apprehensive that he was going to ask me about it, but other than ascertaining if I was okay, he’d said nothing.
Maybe it was because he was embarrassed. Whatever it was, I was just grateful he didn’t ask.
“Pho Queen.” He reached for my waist, pulling me closer to him, and three weeks ago, I would have died and gone to heaven. “Please tell me you’re coming with.”
Pho Queen was an up and coming Vietnamese restaurant. I never had Vietnamese food and I really wanted to give it a try.
A few passing girls eyed us, with some of them doing a little wave at him while tossing flirty glances.
I quickly typed in Pho Queen and got a speedy reply back.
Okay
Okay meant that I was cleared to go.
He had to have eyes on me at all times and I wanted to make it easy for him. My dad was paying him to guard me 24/7, the least I could do was make it easy for him.
“Seven-thirty okay with you?” I extricated myself from Denton’s hold, my sweaty scent was not a turn-on. He didn’t seem to mind though as he pulled me closer, leaning in for a kiss.
The phone in my right hand vibrated again.
“Ouch!” Denton exclaimed, rubbing his hand against his jaw. In my hurry to check my phone, I had stabbed his lower jaw with the hard magnetic cover of my phone case.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, tilting my head up to check the angle of the injury. It didn’t look like anything had dented his perfectly smooth jaw.
Affording me a quick glance, he chuckled, “I can’t believe you fell for that one.”
I made a small fist and nudged his rib, “Get to practice, you liar. I’ll see you later tonight.”
Rubbing a large hand under the right side of my mouth, his expression darkened, “Athena, is everything okay?”
“Why do you ask?” Feeling my brows knit in inquiry. As far as I knew, as much as I could manage, I’d tried to act normal. As normal as a girl in college who was being kept under surveillance by a hulking guy who could outtalk a silent film and was being followed by unknown men could be.
“You’re always on your phone…” he gestured his head towards the item-in-question in my hand. “I’ve never seen you so taken with that piece of plastic.” Metal actually.
Speaking of the phone, my gaze landed on the screen with Webb’s text.
He’s blocking my view. He needs to move. Now.
I stepped to the side, following Webb’s orders. “Denton, there are some things I need to take care of and I just need to be on the phone.”
“Sure.” The lackluster look he gave me indicated that he wasn’t buying my excuse. “You can tell me things, you know…I’m your friend too.”
Bobbing my head, I took the small towel from around my neck and wiped the sweat that had started to form across my forehead. “I know. I just need to sort some stuff out.”
Hoping to distract him from asking further questions, I stated, “I’ll see you tonight,” as I started marching away from him.
He honed in on me with those deep green eyes, zeroing in on my face. “Alright.” He looked like he wanted to say something more but stopped.
My feet stopped moving and I extended my arms above my head, inserting a few quick stretches as I watched Denton sprint towards the other side of our school, where he reigned as the king of the court.
He was any full-blooded woman’s dream guy.
He was a great guy – respectful, gorgeous, smart, and his jade-green eyes were the stuff dreams were made of and hearts beat for.
But for the past few nights, I’d woken myself up, slowly touching my hands to my lips – lips that had kissed the hardened, rough skin of a man who held the toughest exterior, and during the extremely rare times when he wasn’t looking at me, I’d caught glimpses, cracks in his icy blue stare.
He had that faraway look in his eyes coupled with a sullen expression. It was the same look my father had when he came back from an international research/medical assignment a few years ago. The look of sadness, of tragedy, maybe even death.
My childhood friend, Cara, and I used to sing this song to each other a day or two before we knew we were going to undergo a procedure. I tried to match her voice; angelic, high, even when she had no energy. She said it was by a lady named Mary Hulefeld.
“There’s a light inside of you, there’s a light inside of me.
Together we can shine our light for all the world to see.”
I was extremely surprised when my eyes met the familiar white blinds in my dorm room two days after I’d officially met Webb. I must have been so tired to not even notice that he’d driven and delivered my body to the comfort of my bed. I’d woken up to the loud sounds of Dyan talking to Webb, as if they were old friends. Dyan did most of the talking and Webb was just nodding his head.
He’d flickered a glance at me and for a brief moment, I saw a tender recognition of my presence which left almost as quickly as it had appeared.
From what I’d gleaned on from his explanation to Dyan, he’d basically told her the truth. Well half-truth. That he was a friend of my family and we hadn’t seen each other for years so my father asked me to show him around. After he’d left, Dyan joked, “If my family asked me to show him around, he’d never leave the tourist spots of my bedroom.” Sometimes I envied Dyan. She was so open, free-spirited, and the times she’d shared her sexual adventures with me and some of the girls on our floor during our weekly get-togethers, I felt a pang, a longing in my chest. I’d never had that. That single, breathless moment that Dyan had mentioned at first hurt like burning hell, but once you’re set and trained, it would give you the highest, most indescribable high. One that can only be achieved when two people are in that same moment, connected at the most intimate level.
One more lap? My phone blinked, he was egging me on.
He didn’t join me for my runs, but he’d started timing and counting the number of laps I completed by texting me my run times, usually linked with web pages on how I could increase my stamina and prolong my endurance.
Jerk.
One more? Try two more. Full ones, around the course, I replied back accompanied by a “fist” emoticon.
Another buzzing. Get moving. The ground won’t run for you.
Slave driver.
Yes sir. Hut hut.
My legs carried me to the side of the field where I started my run, past the bleachers where the metal reflected against my sunglasses.
Bending at the waist, I attached the headphones I’d removed from the front pockets of my gray workout pants to my phone.
A second-long vibration made me look at my phone one more time before I got to pressing on my workout playlist.
Stunned disbelief washed over me, my legs stayed glued to the ground, and seconds ticked by before I broke out of my reverie.
In front of my screen, a smiling, winking emoticon appeared.
Webb, Mr. Colder-Than-A-Klondike-Bar-Times-Three, had just smiled at me.
He’s blocking my view.
What a load of bullshit.
I’d be licking my own nuts by the time I was done with this mission with all the lies I’d been feeding myself.
I can’t see where you’re at.
He’s too close to you.
His arm is in my way.
I could fire an M-4 Carbine in the wettest, muddiest conditions, with a kill shot, at more than 500 meters for a point target and at least 600 meters for an area target, even with a big-ass boulder in the way.
Every time Denton Holmes was around, he liked to paste himself to the front of Athena, inches away from her side. If he sneezed, his spit would be on her face in a fraction of a millisecond. When he laughed, he had to put his arm around her and since he was so fuckin’ tall, I could barely see if she was breathing or suffocating around his shoulder. I had the urge, and I don’t have urges, to remove his arm and monster glue it to his side.
When they were in class, he sat so close to her that if I were the professor, I’d actually be wondering if Denton was humping her leg. The thought of him humping her leg made me want to shit a brick.
You’re under orders. She’s a job. She’s too young. Her father wants her safe.
Other than her being under my protection, I had no rights to her. And I would never have any rights to her.
I’d rationalized it to myself as having gone too long without a woman that I was starting to erroneously transfer any sorts of emotions I had left towards Athena, so I had contacted Estella three nights ago.
Once I’d scoped out Athena’s apartment/dorm twice and ascertained that she was safely secured in her bed, I called Estella to meet me at the closest hotel.
Estella had come in wearing her usual clothes – short skirt, easy-to-remove blouse, and no underwear. Ready to be taken by me. She knew how hard I liked it and she took it with pleasure. We’d usually go round after round so that by the time she’d left in the morning, she had a noticeable limp in her step. Not because I’d physically abused her or anything. But I was pretty sure she’d be sore from the number of times I’d pounded into her and the equal number of times she rode me.
Estella was a true redheaded beauty. I say true because some women dyed their hair red, but Estella’s sparse carpet matched the drapes, and when her curvy body laid naked on the plush red silk sheets, my cock had surged to life. When she started sucking on my balls, I’d closed my eyes and it was a big mistake.
Ever since the day I’d met Athena, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face – her wild, uninhibited face so fresh with life and those trusting hazel eyes that had started to crawl into my consciousness. I swiftly pulled my cock away from Estella’s mouth and for the first time in my life, I’d actually thought my cock was broken. It limply, slowly, surely, died a sudden death.
Without waiting for Estella to get a drift on what was happening, I touched two of my fingers to her clit, rubbed gently, then with firmer, harder strokes, I’d inserted one, two, and three of my fingers to get her off. It would be selfish of me to leave her wanting, aching, and completely unsatisfied, so with experience, I’d managed to give her what she needed – a hard spanking, my knuckles breaching the wall of the pussy three times, and a few bite marks on her shoulders. She was a wild woman in and out of the bed. I met her in a bar in Hollywood two years ago. She was a corporate attorney who liked to explore in bed, so when I was in town, I made it a point to call her and she was always ready and available.
“You’re not yourself tonight,” Estella stated after tying the neck twists on her blouse, and straightening the back of the skirt she’d unzipped as soon as she had swiped the hotel room keycard in the slot.
I was already completely dressed by the time she slid her feet into her black high heels. She had her left hand against the wall for balance and when her light green eyes landed on mine, judgment was absent, rather they were filled with comprehension.
“Is it a woman?” Her tone mellow, drowning the monotonous voice of the nightly news anchor on TV. I had turned on the TV while waiting for her to finish dressing. Normally, we’d stay in bed until around six in the morning where we’d part ways until the next time I called. It was the same with other women. The only expectations they had of me was that I’d give them pleasure and they’d grant me mine. No entanglements. No drama. We were all adults who were fully aware of ourselves and loved giving pleasure as much as getting it.
I checked my phone for the tenth time, making sure Athena was sleeping in the bed. She’d tossed and turned a few times, but her eyes stayed closed. I’d been honest with her – I divulged to her that her apartment was under my surveillance and so was her room. If she needed privacy, she had to let me know so I could give her a few moments to herself. Since she shared the apartment with Dyan, the tiny lady who couldn’t stop talking, her roommate’s room wasn’t part of the video feeds. However, the main access, all exit and entry points were.
“Webb…” Estella called out, “I think this is the last time I will be seeing you…”
“What?” I settled myself on the white reclining love seat, my feet hanging off the edges.
“Is it a woman?” she repeated, though I heard her the first time around.
I put my right arm against my head and clicked on the remote to change the channel.
“There’s no woman.” Estella never asked about other women. It was what made our arrangement great. I didn’t ask about the men she slept with either. I didn’t need to know. As long as I had a dozen condoms on hand, I had no exclusive claims to her body.
“It’s okay, Webb.” Filling the champagne glass with red wine, she muttered, “You don’t owe me any explanations.”
I’d always pre-ordered the wine to be brought to our rented room for the night because she liked it. We might not be emotionally attached to each other, but I wanted a woman to be comfortable, have fun, and also feel valued. The worst thing a man could ever do was make a woman feel like a whore after giving him a night of pleasure. It didn’t matter if a woman had a pussy as loose as a cannonball, they still needed to be cherished.
Swigging the last drop of the 1995 Château Margaux, a tiny drop of the red liquid was left on her lip, and I motioned with my hand letting her know it was there.
Taking a white napkin from the glass table in front of her, she said, “She’s lucky.”
I swallowed, a lump of coal forming around my throat. Standing up, I replied, “It’s been fun, Estella. Thank you for the good times.”
She had so much to give. In the short time I’d known her, I’d known her to be a giving woman. She was nice to the people she talked to on the phone and she didn’t like to be a prima donna. One time, room service gave us the wrong breakfast and instead of sending it back, she thought of the food that would be wasted and ate it like a champ.
I gave her a long hug and when it was time to say goodbye, I’d told her to never settle because she was a great woman.
That night, I’d also called Phoebe and she was slightly hysterical. I might have woken her up since there was a 9-hour time difference, but I didn’t want to wait. She tried to convince me not to end it until I saw her again, but as tempting as her offer was, I needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
My thoughts surfaced to the present as I continued to time Athena’s second lap. She’d been running a mile in under 12 minutes. If she focused on it instead of slowing down to look up at the sky, she could be way under 10.
The sky always looked the same - sometimes with clouds, sometimes without.
I didn’t understand why she was so fascinated by it.
“Boss, I got something for you.” Tony’s voice drifted in the background. He lived in the dungeon – a room filled with the latest technology, computers on every surface, crackling with electromagnetic activity. Tired of working for the corporate world, he’d contacted me after Drake’s recommendation. I needed intel and as much as I trusted Tony’s government counterparts, the Navy didn’t want any loose ends with this gig. Meaning they gave me access to all the intel they had, but since they didn’t know for sure who was targeting Dr. Bridges, it was best if everything was kept under wraps, including information that was passed on from me to Dr. Bridges and to Tony. The polo-wearing, tattooed nerd was the best hacker on this side of the coast. He’d shut down eleven government sites when he was ten. And by the time he was twelve, he’d been in the government’s off-the-books payroll along with his brother, Sinatra, who was his counterpart on the East Coast. Rather than spending thirty of their adult years in prison, they cut a deal with the Feds. I was pretty confident that their father, Representative Jorge Sanchez, bore a lot of weight in their decision to be on the good side of the U.S. government.
“‘Kay, hit me,” I stated, willing myself to look away from the amazing view of Athena’s ass as she slowed her pace.
“They’re not from here, boss,” Tony muttered, weird sounds were going off on his end as he was always monkeying around with some tech gear. The few times I had gone inside his dungeon, I came out with a headache. Gadgets were everywhere, I’d almost stepped on a few to which he’d warned me with, “Boss, that’s an IED!” I’d jumped as high as I could, almost hitting my head on the ceiling, to avoid the gunmetal, robovac-looking object and he’d guffawed endlessly. Let’s just say, he had a hard time getting out of the door of his dungeon that day. I may not be as tech-advanced as he was, but I can lock a door from the outside without any problems.
“Not from L.A.?” Of course they weren’t. I’d sent photos of the men who were tailing us that night. They were hired guns, and the way they acted and drove, they were new to the city.
A screeching noise made me move my phone away from my ear, “Tony, what the hell was that?”
“Sorry. I’m setting up the alarms on the spec ops watch. It’s supposed to alert us when someone’s 20 yards away. The great thing about this is you don’t have to set a perimeter line, you can program it, scan the area, creating an invisible -”
“Tony…” Interrupting what could potentially be a 10-minute explanation of the gadget, I stood up on the bench I was sitting on, tracking Athena’s running form. She was wearing a pink shirt and gray workout pants that molded to her body.
“Where are they from, Tony?” My line was secure, encrypted. In my previous job, it was a requirement. Now it was a necessity.
“South America.”
“Immigrants?” I thought they had hailed from Mexico. It would make sense because it was the United States’ closest neighbor.
“No boss. They’re imported from there. They’re here on business.” It didn’t matter how many times I’d told him to stop calling me ‘boss’, Webb would more than suffice, Tony’s knack for all things computer, technology matched his obsession for crime shows and since NCIS’ Tony Dinozzo called Senior Special Agent Jethro Gibbs “boss”, he had to maintain that line of command.
“What kind of business?” I questioned.
“The DEA’s not flagging them. Yet. But the ATF might have special interests in two of the guys – especially since they were involved in the illegal trafficking of AK-47’s to Northern U.S. in 2011.”
I would never question where and how Tony retrieved his information, but there was no doubt in my mind that this dude was good. I needed someone like him on my team. My company might be new, but I had to start somewhere. Building a foundation with reliable individuals with special skills was one of my goals. Tony fit right in.
“Names?” I asked, my eyes landing on Athena’s figure on the side of the greens, she just finished her run and was now sitting with her palms on the grass and her head extended up, staring at the sky. This girl’s fascination with the sky was something else. She raised her right hand in the air, pinched two of her fingers together and made wave-like movements. She was following the airplane flying overhead with her hands.
Funny girl.
“Salvador Bernal, Rosito Flores, and Abel Maganos,” Tony clearly responded. “They might be aliases though.”
“Send an alert to the ATF. It wouldn’t hurt to notify the DEA either. DOJ should be on top of this,” I instructed, flicking a stray green leaf that got stuck to my jeans. The men might be rookies in following a target, but their expertise was on other illegal activities as Tony had found out.
“Boss, these guys aren’t newbies to the scene. They’re under radar, but whoever’s giving them orders has been around for a while. Their tracks are covered. It took me this long to piece out their information because their faces and names could not be found on any government database – local and international. I finally matched their faces from an old database…Do you wanna know how?”
“It’s alright, Tony,” I affirmed. I didn’t need to know how. The intel was what I needed and now I got it. “Anything else?”
“That’s all I have for now,” he replied, the stirring sounds on his end were back up. I just hoped one day he didn’t blow up our office because of all his tech shit.
“Alright.” Just before pressing the end button, a thought flew in my mind, “Tony, you still there?”
“Yes, boss. Still here with Trix.” He nicknamed his equipment with female names. The guy needed a life, but I wasn’t one to judge.
“You say they’re from South America?”
“Yes. One of them is from Argentina. And the other two are from Colombia.”
“Colombia?” An icy dread flowed through my veins, and I had to crank my neck to allow some air into my lungs.
“Yes. You know - the country that’s bordered northwest by Panama, to the east by Venezuela and Brazil; south by Ecuador and Peru… The kick-assest thing is that it’s so freaking close to the Carribean Sea!” he exclaimed.
“I know where Colombia is.” A suffocating rope of pain spread through my insides making it harder for me to ask the next question, “Where in Colombia?”
It was impossible. There was no way anyone from over 3500 miles away would my past be linked to Athena’s present predicament.
“Bogotá.”
I let out a loud, “Fuck!” The three children, one boy and two girls, playing in the dirt stared at me. I raised a hand to apologize to their moms who were watching them. The moms walked toward their children and slowly moved them away from where I was standing.
“You okay, boss?”
No I’m not okay. This was a cluster fuck of epic proportions.
“You didn’t happen to pinpoint exactly where they’re based at, right?” It was too much to ask. Bogotá was a big city with a population of at least 10 million.
“No, but I can try.” He sounded less cheery, he was an astute man. He must have heard the trepidation in my voice. Something he wasn’t used to.
“Tony, find out everything you can about those guys. Trace all their calls. Check our surveillance feeds with them on it. Find out what they eat. What they buy. When they take a shit.” Crime organizations were all over the world. Leaders have multiple heads; three, five, ten; they all had one thing in common – induce fear and brainwash their followers so the latter would follow them to the edge of nowhere if need be. That or their heads would be blown off or their families attacked.
“Send me anything you find out as soon as you can,” I added, the ball of dread in my throat had grown into a sizeable, unswallowable lump.
“Understood.”
“I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning. Send me the intel as soon as you get it,” I insisted. Tony had never heard this side of me. For the past few months, since my company went public, the jobs I’d taken on were mostly linked with the Navy and they didn’t require any of the arduous data-searching I was asking him to do. This was a different story. One with an outcome only I could control. Hoping that I could control.
“Loud and clear boss.”
“Okay.” Ending the call, I walked to the area of the field where she was now sitting. For the past half hour, she did her meditational breathing of some sort, closing her eyes in the middle of one of the busiest universities in California.
With a surprised glance, she took my presence in, “You smiled at me today, Mr. Hulk.” She called me Hulk on Wednesdays, Gladiator on the weekends, and Muscle Man on Mondays. Sometimes she switched them up. She didn’t follow patterns.
She just lived.
There were times when she’d go to her classes in ponytails, other times in a wild, messy bun, and then a number of times with dripping wet, barely combed hair. The last way happened when she stayed up late on nights spent gossiping with her friend, Dyan.
“What?” Confusing woman. I stayed at a healthy distance away from her, she couldn’t have seen me smile. Even if she thought I did.
Clicking her phone, the screen flashed brightly.
“See?” Saying it with so much enthusiasm that even if she had no proof, I might just give it to her. Might.
Against the glass of her phone’s screen, a smiley emoti-shit winked back at me. It was the text I’d sent her after she mockingly messaged me with “Hut hut.”
“One day I will make you smile.” A yellow-and black fingernail rested just below her chin, her gaze contemplating, those eyes piercing me with such hope and joy, a small smile threatening to give way on her delicate features, she continued, “You’ll smile so big and so wide that it will blind everyone around you.”
I dispelled giving her a response because I knew the truth.
I didn’t know if I’d ever smile again.
There was no place for roses in my life.
That part of me had been dormant for such a long time.
And I had no will to have it resurrected.