Page 25 of Player
Finn
She looks so harmless asleep. Covers half-on, half-off her gorgeous body. Arm flung out across the small mattress. Cheeks pink from the warm night air.
To say I’m surprised she’s onboard is an understatement. But I’m more surprised at myself for underestimating her. She’s a pot-stirrer for sure. Wining and dining with the captain. Batting pretty eyelashes and buttering him up. Oblivious to what a shyster he really is. But whatever she was dishing out, he was buying it. A standing ovation performance. So, what did he tell her?
Trouble, she is.
Trouble, and she’s in over her head.
I’ve been following her about for days. Eavesdropping on her narrating her videos. Locating the uranium containers only because the clever lass found them first. How did she do it?
What else does she know?
I pick up her cell phone, hack into it, then download TORC developed spyware from an encrypted site. Whatever internet site is accessed, whatever files are uploaded, whatever codes and numbers she enters, I can trace, access, or delete them. There’s also a GPS feature so I can monitor her whereabouts.
With that done, I place the phone on the table and then, when curiosity gets the best of me, pick it back up.
How about we take a gander at what she’s been up to?
I set the volume on low then hit play.
There’s a whole lot of footage in Acapulco. The warehouse and El Chulo’s men. The port. Her describing what’s in the shipping manifest. It’s not until I’m midway through I realize exactly the lengths she’s taken to be here.
Christ on a bike. She was there. With that vicious woman and worse ... Diego.
I watch it all. Her connecting the dots from drugs and weapons to the uranium. From Fahder’s involvement to his wife, Señora del Leon’s. The moment everything went to shite.
BOOM.
She drops the camera.
Fire and smoke and chaos.
Death.
How much dynamite did that muppet use?
The explosion visibly scared her. It’s in her face, her tone, in the way the camera shakes. The woman has got balls, she does. And no matter how fecked up it is to see her there, I’ve got to say, I respect the hell out of her. Courageous. Persistent. Excellent at her job and in documenting the details.
Now she’s onboard. Like me, tracking the uranium.
I rub my beard, wondering what to do with her then it’s off to the bed to find out. I sit down on the mattress with a bounce.
She doesn’t budge.
Reaching over, I nudge her hip.
She sleeps on, dead to the world, unaware of the danger I pose.
I study her for a few minutes: her toned body and long runner’s legs, perky nipples standing at attention beneath her cotton shirt, that pale white throat of hers, which I could easily wrap my fingers around. A beautiful complication, she is. Christ knows this feckin’ assignment has been riddled by them.
I crawl up on the bed, straddling her body then give her a firm shake.
She comes awake with a start.
The room is dimly lit, and I can see the exact moment she realizes her predicament.
Pure horror crosses her pretty face. “You?”
