Jax and the Brown Eyed Girl

Matt made the phone calls. Now their weekend was ruined. Jake and Matt had reserved a yacht for the weekend and had planned on lots of sun and fishing. That's what they had told the owner of the yacht. It was possible they might do some fishing, in between all the drinking. He and Jake needed a break after working six days a week for a while. Matt also needed to quit thinking of Jackie all the time and he hoped a weekend of heavy drinking would help him forget her.

That plan just went to shit, Matt thought sourly as their San Diego PD contact picked up the phone.

Their friends in law enforcement assured him they'd take it from there. The police department needed a formal statement, of course. Matt indicated that they'd be down at the station as soon as possible. The likelihood of charges being filed against them was between zero and "no fucking way."

"Thank you," a soft voice said from the back seat.

Jake cocked his head to the side and Matt turned to look at their passenger.

Brooklyn looked first at Matt and then at Jake. "Thank you for helping me, for saving me, back there."

"You're welcome, ma'am," Matt replied.

Jake looked at his best friend and mouthed "ma'am?" He made an L on his forehead.

The military had drilled the 'sir' and 'ma'am' thing into Matt's head permanently. It always came out, especially if he didn't know someone well. Matt wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but whatever it was, Jake didn't share the same burden.

"Our pleasure." Jake laughed. "Hell, it was fun. Although Matt got to have more fun than me."

Brooklyn looked over at Matt and cocked her head. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." He shrugged and motioned at Jake. "This guy was hallucinating."

"What's your name?" Matt asked before Jake could object.

"Brook. Please call me Brook."

"It's nice to meet you, Brook," Matt said. "I'm Matt and this idiot is my best friend, Jake."

"What happened?" she asked. "Why did those men try and take me?"

Jake and Matt exchanged a look, but it was Matt who responded. "Brook, it sounds like they wanted to take you to Mexico. Do you know anyone in Mexico?"

"No." She shrugged. "Occasionally, I'll do some work, advertising for clients in Mexico. I just finished a campaign for someone there. I've never been to Mexico, though, and I don't know anyone from that country."

Matt and Jake's eyes met. Who ever paid for that custom "advertising campaign" (video), probably wanted Brooklyn as his personal pet. It was a clue at least. A place to start.

"Um. Where are you taking me?" Brook asked, her voice more curious than scared.

"Good question," Matt said. "Brook, it's likely the men who tried to take you tonight already know where you live. They may even have people watching your place." Her face grew pale. "I'd rather not take you back to your place, only to have you abducted again."

She stared at Matt blankly for several seconds before motioning for him to continue.

"If you insist, however, we will take you home. We just don't think it's a good idea."

Brook looked out the window, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

Jake decided to voice his opinion. "It's a horrible, shitty idea."

"Brook ..." Matt waited until their eyes met. "Jake and I are private investigators. We know some safe places in the city where you can stay free of charge and you'll be safe. We've already contacted the police. They may also provide you protection for a while."

The situation was clearly overwhelming for her. She'd been a normal person when she boarded the plane. Now her life was in danger. In the last forty-five minutes, she'd been attacked, saved, pushed into an SUV with strangers, and then driven around San Diego. It was a lot for anyone to absorb.

"Is there anyone we can call for you? Husband? Boyfriend?" Matt asked. "They could come stay with you, or you could stay with them."

Brook shook her head. "My parents moved several years ago. They live in Montana now. I have a boyfriend, but he's out of town for several months." She looked down for a moment, but perked up a second later, grinning. "I have a dog."

Jake snorted. "Really? I figured you for a cat person."

Classic Jake.

"You are not funny," Brook countered. "I'm a dog person, not a complete loser."

It looked like Brook's personality was reasserting itself. A good sign. She'd been shocked and shaken tonight, but not broken. It spoke well of her. Matt started to envy her boyfriend. Ok, it's not a date, Matt. Time to get the conversation back on track. "How is your dog around strangers?" he asked.

"Ummmm," she began, "he's fine, once he's been introduced. I wouldn't recommend trying to break into my house. He's a little territorial."

"A little?" Jake asked.

"OK, he's territorial. But he's really a sweetheart."

"Yeah. A 'sweetheart,'" Jake mimicked. "He'll only take a little chunk out of your ass. He's a sweetheart."

"Jake," Matt warned. "I'll get the dog."

"Damn right you will. I still have scars from the last little sweetheart we dealt with. Remember?"

"Yeah. You squealed like a girl."

"Fuck you!" Jake shook his head. "I yelled like a man when that Rottweiler clamped onto my calf." He laughed. "It fucking hurt."

"Yeah, yeah." Matt looked back at Brook. "Okay, how's this sound? We'll get your dog and then get you to someplace safe. Then we'll call the police again. You can give them your statement when they arrive. When you're done with the police, you can decide what happens next."

Brook nodded. "Okay. Sounds fair." Matt faced forward again. "Thanks again," she said quietly.

The trio rode in silence for a few minutes before Brooklyn gave directions to her house.

***

Guadalajara, Mexico

Ringing. Ringing. Ringing.

Curses, low, hard, and guttural filled the air, followed quickly by a groan of pain.

The fat man rolled over onto his back, breathing heavily, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He wasn't sure if the ringing was just in his head or if it was the phone. Either way it made his headache worse.

He cursed fluently in Spanish again before sitting up slowly to avoid puking. The party had lasted long into the night. It had been a good party. Lots of tequila, cocaine, and women. The lavish surroundings came into focus, and he realized he was in his own master suite. There were women in the bed with him. Naked.

It was a good party. And the boss gets to fucking party whenever he fucking wants.

Don Pedro Aragon. That's what his men called him. That's how he thought of himself. It wasn't his given name. It sure as hell wasn't what he was called in the ghetto where he grew up. The stinking sewer where his whore of a mother gave birth to him. The crowded, smelly streets where he learned to steal, cheat, and kill. It was also where he learned the rules of the game.

The strong win. The ruthless get rich. Power comes only to those willing to be both strong and ruthless.

Don Pedro Aragon. The name he'd picked when he'd taken over the drug operations in this part of Mexico. Taken over? He'd fucking killed the arrogant bastard who controlled the territory before him. Killed him, his family, his children, and his dogs.

Don Pedro Aragon was strong and ruthless.

It was regrettable killing his family, but important. It was important because it sent a clear message.

Don't fuck with Don Pedro Aragon.

Since then his organization had grown rapidly, becoming richer and more powerful than almost anyone in Mexico or Central America. His kingdom was Southern Mexico. His rule there was absolute. Southern Mexico was perfect because it kept him off the radar of the U.S. law enforcement agencies.

Fucking Norte Americanos. They're soft. The only thing they produce is drug addicts and porn stars. Fortunately, they produce both in large numbers.

Don Pedro was in his middle 50s. He was overweight and balding and sported a well-trimmed mustache. He didn't look like a powerful drug lord. He didn't look like a cold-blooded killer, or a fugitive wanted in over twenty countries. He looked like a banker, a barber, or a lawyer.

Don Pedro Aragon was a king in Southern Mexico. No one stepped out of line, no one questioned his orders, and no one stood in his way. He had true power. The power over life and death in this part of Mexico.

Life and death.

His gaze fell on the three naked women in his bed. They were beautiful and boring. Sensual and plain. They looked like any other women in this part of Mexico. He could end their lives with a gesture, but it would require that he care about them. He didn't. They weren't valuable enough, or important enough, to kill. What would be the point? It would be like destroying luggage or furniture.

Don Pedro hadn't met an interesting woman in years. Until recently. One of his men, a long-time employee, showed him a movie with a woman so beautiful, he couldn't get her out of his head. She consumed his thoughts and filled him with desire. She haunted his dreams every night, and his desire grew stronger.

The fat drug lord slipped a robe on, tightening the belt as he walked out onto his patio. He motioned to his butler for coffee. He surveyed his backyard. It was lavish, beautiful, and all of it belonged to him.

Brooklyn Chase.

A woman of rare beauty. He had to have her. Not just on film. That was for losers like his employee who had to rely on videos for his enjoyment. Don Pedro Aragon was a better man. His appetites could never be satisfied by moving pictures. Brooklyn Chase. Her name filled his mouth, slipping off his tongue deliciously. He needed to possess her completely.

The beautiful American brunette would belong to him. A part of his life. A fixture at his estate. Don Pedro needed to see her lounging around his pool. Needed her on his arm when he attended parties. He needed to see the jealousy in other men's eyes as they looked at Don Pedro, the better man. Brooklyn Chase also needed to grace his bed every night, happy to give him pleasure, and satisfy his needs.

One day after seeing a video clip of her, he had placed a call to his attorney in the U.S. He demanded a custom video. He instructed the attorney to pay whatever was necessary to make it happen. Money didn't matter. Brooklyn Chase mattered.

Don Pedro also instructed his attorney to extend an invitation to visit his estate. Ideally, Don Pedro wanted the video to be shot at his estate in Cabo San Lucas. He also extended an invitation to Brooklyn Chase to visit him in Southern Mexico after the video was completed. Women were stupid creatures. They were attracted to money and power. Don Pedro had expected Brooklyn to immediately accept his offer. Money and power were items he had in abundance.

She will come to me willingly.

The possibility of Brooklyn refusing him was unthinkable. Unfortunately, his attorney told him Brooklyn Chase stubbornly refused to leave the country. More money would not change her mind, his attorney told him, and it would only make her more suspicious. The video would have to be done in Phoenix, Arizona.

Fury gripped Don Pedro Aragon after he ended the phone call. It took several hours for him to calm down. The idea someone would refuse him, especially a woman, was infuriating. Rage and humiliation burned within him.

Brooklyn Chase.

Her name mocked him now. She'd refused him. She'd defied him. Refused Don Pedro Aragon!

Don Pedro muttered another curse. He grabbed his phone and called another employee. A different employee. This employee was definitely not an attorney, but he solved more problems than any ten attorneys combined. Several hours later, the employee visited his estate and explained to Don Pedro that everything had been arranged.

Brooklyn Chase would be at his estate within a month, possibly sooner, but no longer than a month.

We will make another video when she arrives. We will make many videos of Brooklyn Chase.

The fat drug lord opened his humidor and selected a Cuban Cohiba. He lit it, enjoying the aromatic smoke billowing up from the end.

She will learn never to refuse Don Pedro Aragon.

***

"Fuck me!" Matt hissed, frustration coloring his voice as he looked at Brooklyn. "I thought you said he was friendly!"

The brown and white canine in question was growling menacingly, and staring at Matt as though he were a tasty item on the menu.

Nice doggy. Yeah, right! The nice doggy's about to munch on my nuts!

Matt backed up against the wall and looked for something to throw at the growling hunk of fur and teeth.

Big, white, nut-munching teeth.

Jax wasn't all that large, maybe forty or fifty pounds, but he had an intensity that projected strength.

If he sinks his teeth into me, I'll probably have to shoot the little fucker to get him to stop.

Brooklyn giggled. "I said he was a sweetheart. I never said friendly."

She was obviously enjoying Matt's discomfort. He glared at Brooklyn. Finally, she took pity on him and called to her dog.

"Jax!" Her voice was firm. "Out!"

Jax, the sweetheart boxer, gave Matt one last warning look before padding over to Brooklyn. He circled her once before sitting next to her and looking up hopefully. A wide, loving smile broke over Brooklyn's face as she looked at Jax. She reached down and rubbed and petted her sweetheart.

"Good boy! That's my boy, Jax. Way to scare the big man."

"Easy," Matt said. "I wasn't scared, just cautious."

Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. God, you men have such fragile egos. Ugh."

"Yeah, Yeah." He looked at her meaningfully. "Hey, remember. Bad men. Attempted kidnapping? Maybe we should get your little mutt and leave?"

"OK. OK. Let me throw a bag together and we'll get out of here."

Jesus, we're probably going to be here all night. Women take forever to pack.

Matt didn't follow her back to her bedroom.

He didn't offer to help her.

And he didn't start checking out her place.

Brooklyn was a client in Matt's mind now, not an actress. Definitely not an adult actress. This was a job. Matt was dispassionate, calm, and professional, now that the sweetheart was out of the room.

It was hard to look at Brooklyn Chase and not see a beautiful, smart, sexy woman. At the same time, however, Matt's training and experience had taken over. She was truly more of a client now in his mind.

Matt stepped over to her patio and looked out the window. They'd entered through the back. So far, their exit looked clear. No obvious surveillance. No sign of more bad guys. Jake was waiting a block away. Matt would text him when they were ready to leave. The plan was to go out the back again, walk down the alley, and meet Jake at the end of the block.

Fortunately, Matt was now armed. Jake was as well. Things were better—not good—but better.

Brooklyn appeared a few minutes later with a large gym bag over her shoulder. She was dressed in yoga pants, a tank top, and a zip-up hoody. Sensible. Comfortable.

Wow. She looks good.

He must have looked shocked because she glared at him and put her bag down.

"What?" she asked. "Oh. I'm a woman, right? We can't pack anything in less than an hour? Jerk."

"Uh ..." Matt's super-fast, razor sharp wit was on display.

Brooklyn walked over and attached a leash to Jax and then glared at Matt. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yeah, some superhero you are. "Does your dog bark?"

"No. He'll stay quiet."

"Excellent." He paused and explained carefully. "Same way we came in. I'll lead off. You stay directly behind me, about three feet, and just do as I say." She nodded. Matt gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Jake's ready for us, so we just have to walk down the alley."

Brooklyn took a deep breath and adjusted her gym bag.

The sliding glass door opened smoothly and quietly. Matt and Brooklyn stepped out into the night. It was a typical Southern California summer night. Cool, light breeze and no humidity. Perfect.

Matt moved forward carefully and fluidly, his firearm in the ready position, and they moved silently down the alley. A quick check behind him showed Brooklyn was following his directions. He walked quickly down the alley. Only silence greeted them, and even Jax seemed calm.

No unusual noises, no voices, no gunning engines or screeching tires, nothing.

They reached the end of the alley. The Hummer pulled up and the passenger doors sprang open. Jake kept the motor running and gave Matt a thumbs-up. The last few feet were tense for everyone. It was the place where most experienced individuals hit a security detail. The transition from walking in a prepared position to moving the client into a vehicle safely was a challenge.

Fortunately, it went off without a hitch and they were on the highway a few minutes later.

"No one," Jake said a minute later. "I guess it was just one team."

Matt holstered his firearm and nodded. "Yeah. They probably expected to take her at the airport with no problems and whisk her to Mexico."

Jake gave Matt a weird look. "Whisk?"

"Fuck you." Matt laughed. "Drive, leave, abscond, snatch and grab, extract, whatever."

"You da man!" Jake said sarcastically. "A one person thesaurus."

"Um, where are we going?" Brooklyn asked from the back.

Jax had taken over her lap and was panting happily as she stroked his fur. He looked cute sitting in her lap.

He's cute all right. Now that he isn't trying to make a meal of my testicles.

"We have a condo ready. It's a few miles away, so sit back and relax. We should be there within thirty minutes."

"OK. Are the police going to be there?"

"That depends on you," Matt replied. "It's late. If the police come, it will be several hours before they're done questioning you. We could wait until morning. It would give you a chance to rest and recover a little."

Truthfully, once the police arrived, they didn't know for certain what would happen next. They could take everyone down to the station for questioning. It was even possible that Jake or Matt could be arrested for their actions at the airport. It was highly unlikely, but it was possible.

Brooklyn sighed and looked out the window.

"You will be safe," Matt said quietly. "It's a big condo. You'll have your own room, your own bathroom, and privacy. I promise."

Brooklyn continued to look out the window for a moment longer. "I'll be safe? You promise?"

"Yes," Matt replied.

"Absolutely," Jake added a second later.

"OK. We can call the police in the morning then." Brooklyn said, closing her eyes.

They arrived at a brand new building twenty minutes later. The building had been built along the beach in an upscale neighborhood. Matt and Jake had recently purchased it through a shell corporation they'd set up in the Cayman Islands. It didn't show up on any of their tax forms or records. It was as "off the books" as they could make it.

The condo was amazing. The windows all faced the beach. Nearly all the rooms had a wonderful view of the coastline for several miles. They'd bought it for exactly this purpose. Occasionally, they needed a safe place to stash a client or potential customer. The condo was perfect.

The building had a guarded entrance, and the security company took its job seriously. The gate guard was armed and experienced in using firearms. Their weapons weren't just for show. Additional armed security was inside the lobby.

Jake and Matt took Brooklyn and Jax up to the condo. Brooklyn had kept her gym bag and Jake and Matt were happy to let her carry it. They didn't want their hands full of crap, in case they needed to use their firearms.