Remember Me (46 page)

she thought as an evil smile played on her red lips.

                                                         
Chapter 38
                     Zihuatanejo Bay Mexico, the local jail and police station
Reclining on the ragged wooden bench with one arm covering his eyes, Raidon thought about how quickly things had went from bad to worse. The stay in the jail had been miserable. He had been laying there for several hours, after kicking a belligerent drunk's ass, a drunk who apparently hated all Americans, especially of the Asian persuasion. The man wouldn't leave him alone, and when he had finally spit on him, he had gladly took all his sweaty frustration out on him.
Now his stomach was rolling like thunder during a violent summer storm, from breathing in the awful smell of a backed up, overflowing toilet, the rank smell of piss, and the passed out drunk. He was thankful he hadn't eaten before they were arrested, or he would have already tossed his cookies, thus adding to the rancid stench.
If they had jails this bad in the US, crime would drop by at least 99 percent…
he thought as he pressed his arm against his nose, trying desperately to block out the smell.
He thought about Cynne' for the hundredth time, and his stomach clenched even more painfully. The terrified look on her face as he was being led in the back to his cell, leaving her all alone with the captain and his men, and the fact he couldn't do anything to help her was nearly driving him insane. He tried, God knows he had, by demanding that he be allowed to call the American Embassy, in order to get an official to come aide her and try to get her released. The guard that had led him to his cell had merely laughed, then hit him in the stomach with his nightstick.
At one point the precinct captain had paid him a brief visit, informing him it would probably be two weeks or more before he and Cynne' would be able to see the judge, then he had smiled and murmured sarcastically, “Don't worry my amigo, I will take care of the marr'on (brown) Goddess.”
In desperation, he had lied and tried to convince the captain to release her, by telling him
she was innocent, and that she had had no knowledge beforehand of his intent to trespass on private property. Of course the man hadn't believed a word of it, he had simply chuckled and clucked his tongue, then walked away muttering about naïve, smug Americans. Thinking about the way the captain had leered at Cynne' from the moment he first laid eyes on her, the same disturbing thought came back to haunt him. What horrible things could be happening to her?
Lord, please don't let her get hurt because of me...
he prayed silently, more frightened than he had ever been in his life.
BANG!!BANG!! A loud clanging on the metal bars made him jump. Sitting up, he found himself glaring at the guard, the same one who had hit him with the nightstick.
The scrawny Mexican man sneered, “Heyyyy, pretty boy! Get up!”
“What do you want?” he demanded in a tone so belligerent that the guard actually took a step back, warily.
I know your type well! Not so brave when a man's not cuffed, are you?
He
thought.
Regaining his false bravado, the guard banged the bars with his nightstick again. “Get your ass up, Jett Lee! You move now, or you can stay here, don't matter to me. I don't care if you rot in here! But Captain Lopez said come get you! So I come get you!! NOW GET UP!” he demanded as he unlocked the cell door and swung it open, watching Raidon closely.
Refusing to be rushed, he stood slowly and stretched his tired, aching muscles, then slowly walked out of the cell and stood in front of the guard. “Where is the woman who was arrested with me?” he asked, but a painful nudge to the stomach with the nightstick, and a curse, was his only reply.
Feeling the American was treating him as if he was some sort of lackey, the guard grew even
angrier
. His curt voice lashed out, taunting, “Shut up! You don't need to worry about her, we know how to treat a woman like her.”
Seeing red, he knew the bastard was implying that he and the other guards had either molested her, or intended to. “You piece of shit, I'll kill you all, and I'm going to start with YOU!” he snarled, a feral gleam in his eyes.
The nasty sneer fell from the guards face quickly as he saw the burning rage in Raidon's eyes. Jumping back quickly, and out of the angry man's reach, he held up one hand and put the other on the old revolver that hung low in the holster on his hip. For years the gun had been the source of courage and confidence he needed, confidence that he needed now. “Don't make me shoot you amigo, it's no never mind to me. Up to me, I would leave you here to die. But the captain wants to see you, and if you come quiet, MAYBE you can see the senorita you keep whining about. Comprende?”
Still glaring at the obviously frightened guard, he desperately wanted to rip the slimy bastard's head from his bony shoulders, but he knew attacking him would not only bring the other guards, but would get him no closer to seeing Cynne', “Ok, amigo, but this shit
ain't over, Speedy Gonzales. You hear me?”
“Move ass!” was the man's only reply as he stepped behind him and prodded him in the back with the nightstick, one hand still on his revolver.
As he followed the man’s directions on where to go, he cringed in fear (for Cynne') as he heard the sounds of boisterous talking, and what sounded like drunken laughter.

                                  
********************************

Stepping inside the dimly lit, smoke filled room, Raidon stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape. Blinking, he forced his watering eyes to focus for the second time on the scene before him.
In the center of the room Cynne' was seated at a round table with the Captain, and what looked like several of his high ranking officers, and she was the center of attention. She was wearing a poncho, one side of it tossed over her shoulder much the same way Clint Eastwood wore his in his spaghetti westerns. Perched atop her head was the most God-awful, ugliest, most ridiculous red velvet sombrero he had ever laid eyes on. It was covered with rhinestones from front to back, top to bottom, and the colors nearly blinded him. She was singing some song in Spanish, off-key, of course, while she chomped a cigar from the corner of her mouth. In one hand she clutched a bottle of tequila, in the other, a fistful of playing cards. Watching her smiling, singing, and basically dazzling the hell out the men, he was suddenly not only furious, but jealous as well, which shocked him. Not knowing whether to feel relief or anger, he thought,
Look at her! Playing cards, getting drunk, having a ball, while I've been stuck in that pissy-ass jail cell with a loud, obnoxious, belligerent drunk who hates Americans!
Seething, he watched as she took the cigar out of her mouth, titled her head back, formed an 'O' with her full, sexy lips, then blew out a stream of smoke. Lowering her head, she brought her cards eye level, looked slyly at the men seated around the table, then took another puff of the cheap cigar. “My south-of -the-border brothers, as my Uncle John Earl used to say, you got to know when to hold 'em, and know when to say....PAY UP, boys!” she laughed merrily as she slapped a full-house, three jacks and two fives, down on the table.
With a collective groan, every man seated tossed their cards down on the table, shaking their heads and looking at the amazingly lucky woman with frank admiration. Her luck seemed too good to be true, but the truth was, they were all too smitten with her to call her on it, the same way they would a man.
Seeming very pleased with herself, she chuckled, removed the cigar from her mouth, then extinguished it in an ashtray that sat in the middle of the table, which was littered with cards, shot glasses, and personal items. “Well, my amigos, it's been fun, but since my partner has awakened from his beauty sleep, I should get him back to the hotel.” she crowed, giving the men a sunny smile, but not looking at Raidon, whom she correctly
guessed was mightily pissed.
Rising to his feet unsteadily, the Captain quickly made his way to her seat, then helped her out of her chair as gentlemanly as his befuddled wits would allow. “My Nubian Diosa (Goddess), send your little friend on his way, I'm sure he can manage to find his way back to the resort without you. Stay, and allow me show you what the sultry nights Zihustanejo Bay can offer two lovers.” he pleaded, then took one of her hands in his fat, sweaty one, and kissed the back of it.
“Captain, I'm charmed, but a deal is a deal. You ARE a gentleman of your word, are you not?” she purred, with a contrived, wounded expression.
“Of course, of course, senorita! Well, if you simply MUST leave, take my kiss with you.” he implored, then kissed the back of her hand again.
“Nubian Goddess? Jesus, who are you, Spike Lee?” Raidon snorted in a jealous rage, infuriated by the way she had been flirting with the men. “Sensual Zihuatanejo night for two lovers?” he spat in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “That sounds like a cheesy line in some seventies porn flick, a really bad porn flick, at that. Man, do you need to update your lines! That Ricky Martin shit went out ten years ago.”
Seeing the captain's face flush in anger, she quickly crooned, “Don't pay him any attention, sweetie. Listen, I'll take you up on that offer the next time I'm in town,
ALONE!” Glancing at her companion as if he was a mere inconvenience, she frowned, then turned her attention back to the captain. Cupping the side of his whiskered face with one hand, she leaned towards the man's ear, as if about to indulge a secret, but instead, muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I wish I could, but if I leave that retarded ape alone, he'll just get into more trouble, and in a way, I feel responsible for him. He's incompetent, how he solved ANY cases before, I'll never know. Maybe he just trips up on the bad guys by chance, kinda' like the Inspector in those old Pink Panther movies, or Leslie Nielson, in those 'Naked Gun' flicks.”
Suddenly every man in the room, save for Raidon, was roaring with laughter, even the guard who had accompanied him to the room, the one who had hit him with his nightstick earlier.
“Hey! I'm not incompetent! People all around the country praise my work!
It wasn't until your scared ass tagged along that my game got messed up.” he sputtered indignantly.
With an exaggerated, sarcastic nod, she nudged the captain with her elbow and gave him a knowing wink. “Yes, I have to admit he DOES come highly recommended, his Mommy thinks he's a great P.I. I think he should put that on his business cards, don't you? Or on a billboard? ” Holding both hands in the air as if showing that advertisement on the imaginary billboard, her eyes took on a mocking, dreamy look. “I can see it now, his picture, and big red letters reading, ' Hire me, my mom likes my work!' That line will be more famous than 'Where's the Beef!' ”
Another round of laughter followed, as every man turned and pointed at him, clutching their stomachs.
Raidon stood seething, and his glare promised retribution once they were alone.
“Captain Lopez, I'll see you tomorrow.” she said as she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, then glanced nervously at one of the guards as he sat back at the table, took another sip of tequila, and began examining the playing cards carefully. Even though the deck belonged to them, and not her, she decided not to press their luck. Quickly gathering all their belongings on the card table, she hurried to Raidon, shoving his things in his hands, then led the way to the door as calmly as she could without running. Glancing over her shoulder, she called, “Adios for now, guys! Thanks for the great time.”
Following her outside, Raidon opened his wallet and was shocked to discover all his money and credit cards still there.
Slowing down and waiting for him to catch up, she grabbed his arm and tugged, casting another worried glance over her shoulder. “Worry about that later, it's the least of our problems right now!” she hissed. “We need to get the hell out of here, and I mean like five minutes ago!” Stopping suddenly, she began waving her arms wildly, hailing a cab. Incredibly, the man spotted them immediately and stopped.
                                          
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Safely seated in the cab and on their way back to the resort, Raidon turned to face Cynne'. “Alright, now suppose you tell me just what the hell is going on?” he demanded in a low voice.
Giving him a wide-eyed look of innocence, she started to speak, but was interrupted.
“Don't even act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You making fun of me in front of those south-of-the-border Keystone Cops, and the next thing I know, we're both running out of there like Bobby Brown dodging his probation officer. And another thing, how the hell did you get us out after just a few hours? I've been in a Mexican jail before, you don't get out without paying some biiig bucks!” he asked, suddenly afraid to hear the answer. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he felt sick to his stomach at the thought she may have offered herself to one or more of the policemen.
Giving him a smug smile, her brown eyes seemed to take on the color of molten copper. Doffing the loud, offensive sombrero, she shook her head, letting her braids tumble down around her shoulders. “What can I say, I'm irresistible!”
“Cut the clowning, smart ass, and spill the beans,” he growled, in no mood for jokes.
“Well, it's like this.” she sighed. “Captain Antonio Lopez has a big thing for sistas. And
drinking. And gambling. So it was easy to get him to do what I wanted. And you can set your mind at ease, my honor is still intact. All I did was smile and flirt with him and all the others. But especially him.” Giggling at the memory of the pudgy, middle-aged man tripping all over himself to accommodate her, she said, “We ate an amazing local dish, then had a few drinks. Once he was good and relaxed, I suggested that we pass the time playing cards. I knew he was enamored with me, so I proposed a little wager. You see, I'm a bit of a card shark.”
Immensely relieved, he relaxed for the first time since leaving the resort on their ill-fated expedition to the hospital. “What was the wager?” he asked.
Giggling again, she snuggled closer to him, his smell intoxicating her. “If I lost the game I would have to spend the weekend with him. The captain, I mean.” she stated in a matter-of-fact voice, then smirked as she felt his body tense.
After a moment, he muttered, “Well, I guess you knew what you were doing.” Wrapping one arm around her shoulder possessively, he pulled her close, then smiled when she laid her head on his shoulder. Slowly stroking small circles on her shoulder, and unaware of the fact his hand was sending shivers of delight through her, he asked, “So, what did you get for winning? Was it...”
“You.” she interrupted with a whisper, then looked up at him, her expression unreadable.
Locking gazes for what seemed like an eternity, both suddenly felt an invisible, yet unmistakable bond forming between them.
The feeling was too intense for her, and after a moment she looked away and took a deep breath. “If I won, we would get to leave. Not only that, but the captain promised he would see to it that Doctor Santo would cooperate with us. We're supposed to go pay him another visit tomorrow.”
“Hmph.” he grunted, impressed, but unwilling to admit it just yet. “So, tell me more about these amazing card shark skills of yours.”
“When I was growing up, my uncle John Earl was one of the best card sharks in the entire south-eastern United States, and believe me when I tell you that's no exaggeration. Anyway, pool halls, hoochie parlors, as some folks still fondly call them, the back rooms of VFWs, anywhere there was illegal gambling money to be made, he was there. To be brutally honest, he cheated the hell out of clueless rubes and other professionals alike, and there I was the entire time, sitting on his lap, absorbing all the tricks of that particular 'trade'. While most uncles were teaching their nieces songs, or how to jump rope, I was learning to cheat at cards. Later, when I was a teenager, I began winning just as much money as he did, occasionally even more, because I was a girl, and very few men, if any, take a woman seriously when it comes to high-stakes poker. They always assume you're just lucky. And that's not all, I worked a few other cons as well. Why, it was nothing for me to..” her voice trailed off as she realized how much of her shameful past she was revealing.
Looking miserably out the window at the passing scenery, she found herself wondering if he would judge her as harshly as others had in her past.
“Well, that's quite a story.” he grunted. “Remind me to send your Uncle John Earl a thank you card. Without your skills, we could have been in that shit bucket for months, and I'm too damn pretty to go to jail. Hell, we could have been ended up in one of the prisons, and trust me, they make our prisons look like Romper Room.” With an involuntary shiver, he remembered a college kid he had had to get out of a prison near the city of Teotihuac'an, and the abuse the poor kid had had to endure, including multiple beatings and rapes. “They would trade my fine, tight ass that you love so much like Pokemon trading cards. So I, for one, am eternally grateful you got us out of that pickle.”
Reaching up with one hand, she caressed his face, gave him a wink, then replied in a soft voice, “Don't worry, no one else would have gotten their hands on you, I would have made you MY bitch.”
                                
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When the old cab finally shuddered to a stop in front of their hotel, Cynne' climbed out and waited patiently as Raidon paid the driver. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh evening air, which was certainly a welcome change from the stench of the jail.
“
You
alright, sweetie?” he asked in a soothing voice as he touched her arms, the combination of his voice and touch oddly disconcerting, yet comforting at the same time.
“Yeah, I'm wiped out. It's not
every day
I take part in a horror movie, and top it off, I got to save the damsel in distress.” she teased as she opened her eyes and smiled warmly, while at the same time trying to push away the feelings she knew she was quickly developing for him.
Crossing his arms and flexing his biceps for her benefit, he chuckled and replied, “Oh, so now
you’re
saving ME? When exactly were you doing that? Before we went to jail, I mean. While you were doing your impression of Scooby Doo? Tucking your tail between those lush, thick thighs and trying to scale that stone wall like you were an extra for the show 'Prison Break'? Or when you pulled a Benedict Arnold and shoved poor old me directly in the path of that knife-wielding madwoman? That was cold, girl. You would have felt bad if she would have cut me, now wouldn't you?”
Struggling to keep from laughing, she put her hands on her hips and tapped one foot on the pavement. “Now looky here, mister, what you call 'tucking my tail between my legs', is what smart people, like me, call strategically repositioning yourself. I planned on going to find help, and that shove was just a way to encourage you to man up! Besides, I figured you would rather get shivved yourself rather than see it happen to little old me, right, sweetums? After all, you're the big, tough PI that makes your momma proud.” she taunted.