The Beasts of Juarez by R.B. Schow (story books to read .txt) 📗

“No one got hurt?”

“They’re scared but they’re fine,” his contact said. “The team’s approaching the staging grounds now.”

“What’s their ETA?” Otis asked.

“Five minutes tops.”

His stomach growled hard, giving him significant pause. This wasn’t a shit bomb being assembled internally, this was hunger.

He dropped two pieces of toast in the toaster, lowered the rack, and spit in the sink because his mouth was dry from nerves and maybe a bit of dehydration.

“What about the bodyguard?” he asked, then drank some water from a dirty glass. “Was he an issue?”

“They put him down but he got one of my guys.”

“You’ll manage that, right?” Otis asked.

The disdain in the man’s voice came through as clear as day. “Of course. I’ll call when we reach the next leg of the journey.”

Before his contact could hang up, Otis disconnected the call. Smiling once more, he took a breath, phoned the client, and exhaled as the line rang through on the other end.

The grouchy old prick answered with what sounded like phlegm in his throat. He coughed a couple of times to soften the rattle. “I’m not sure if getting old is a privilege or a curse,” the seventy-year-old groused.

“I suppose it all depends on how excited you are for tomorrow.”

The man laughed himself into another coughing spell. “Did you get the packages?” he asked when he was done.

“They’re heading to the warehouse as we speak. You asked that I call you for approval to proceed.”

“You have it,” the old man said. “Call me when it’s done.”

Otis called his contact on the other side of the border. “You’re good to go. Call me when they’re across.”

“I’ll text you instead,” the man said, ever the pain in the ass.

There were two knocks at the back door and then it slowly opened, an older Mexican woman appearing. “Hola, Señior Fykes,” Esmeralda said, not exactly jubilant, but not moody either.

“Hola to you, Miss Esmeralda,” he said, cheerfully.

His daughter’s caregiver, Esmeralda Rodriguez, nodded to Otis almost like she was confused by his agreeable mood. Otis watched her walk back to Janie’s bedroom before turning the stove on to finish his eggs and bacon.

“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Ever since Tanya left him, Esmeralda was about as cold as a Michigan winter with no signs of thawing.

Through the large picture window in the kitchen, Otis stared at a clear blue sky. For a moment, he dreamed of the money he was going to make from this job. And then he found that he was grateful that Tanya wasn’t there to take it from him.

“I’m heading out,” he called out after setting his unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Come say goodbye to your daughter,” Esmeralda said in a tone.

He frowned then moseyed to the back where he saw his fourteen-year-old child in a special bed with tubes in her throat and a heart monitor next to her.

“Bye Janie,” he said.

The bedridden girl glanced over at him, wordless. He hated the look in her eyes, but he smiled anyway. Her fingers moved, but he didn’t know what that meant. Was she waving goodbye, saying hello, or just giving them a wiggle?

“I’ll probably see you tonight, Esmeralda,” he said.

Without a reply from her, he turned and left. He was walking down the hallway when he heard the woman mutter, “Asshole.”

“Same to you,” he grumbled back.

Outside, he got into a beat-to-crap Ford Ranger pickup, started it up then checked the time on the dashboard clock. With a few minutes to spare, he lumbered along the streets and highways, moving toward the predetermined location near the border. He glanced over at the sealed white envelope sitting on the seat next to him. Inside was a thousand dollars in cash. Movement in his rearview mirror grabbed his attention. He glanced up in time to see a Texas state trooper pull in the lane behind him a little too fast.

“Oh, for shit’s sake.”

He double-checked his speed then he discreetly folded the envelope of cash in two and tucked it inside an opening in the dash. Next, he slid his throwaway pistol under his thigh hoping he didn’t have to use it. Then he looked back up at the rearview mirror again.

The state trooper’s light bar suddenly became bright and busy, followed by the wail of his siren.

Chapter Five

ATLAS HARGROVE

Atlas walked toward the visitation room with his heart beating so hard that he found it tough to regulate his breathing. He couldn’t stop wondering if he would see black hair or blonde hair. Black hair was Jade; blonde hair was Cira. Did he want to see one more than the other? He hadn’t thought of this before, but now he wasn’t sure. All he knew was the thought of seeing either of them had his boisterous heart skipping beats.

Pull yourself together, he told himself. He was building this visit up to be too big. Then again, he was so desperate to see either woman that he’d lost sight of the old Atlas Hargrove—the charming, more refined version of himself. When he walked into the visitation room and sat down at the table with the Plexiglas barrier between them, he saw the gorgeous face of the woman he’d been in love with for most of his adult life.

He couldn’t help but smile as he took in her striking appearance but the smile turned into a frown as he thought about how he must look to her.

They picked up their phones at the same time. “Hello Jade,” he said, self-conscious and for good reason. “After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked as she took in the state of his hair, his beard, and the exceptionally gaunt look of him. He couldn’t fault her for asking the question but