I'll Remember You (Hell Yeah!) Page 7

  “Austin?”

  “Austin?”

  He jerked his head up. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. What did you say?” He looked at the face of each one of the Delgados. They were dressed for dinner, a handsome Hispanic family, eating classic dishes, served by impeccably dressed help, and living in a mansion without a want or care of any kind.

  And he, he didn’t belong here. This was not his home. Home was…

  “Did you remember something?”

  Everyone at the table tensed. Austin paused, considering his answer. He hadn’t remembered anything specific, nothing concrete. All of it was more feeling than anything else. And dreams. “No, I didn’t remember anything.” At least nothing he was willing to admit to her.

  “Are you sure?” Everyone was so quiet. All eyes were focused on him.

  “I’m sure.” Especially considering the fact she was looking at him with the coldest eyes he’d ever seen. Austin realized he was being warned. Without words, Martina was warning him.

  “Diosa! Diosa!” A man came running in.

  “What is it?” Martina rose. It still confused Austin why everyone answered to Martina instead of Tomas.

  “They have captured people, men who were crossing over Los Banos. Come quickly!”

  “Toro?” she asked. Tomas groaned and threw his napkin down.

  What was Toro? Austin wondered.

  “I do not know.” Her employee was panting with exertion.

  Martina walked calmly to the buffet, opened a drawer and took out a pistol, a 9mm Beretta. “Let’s go.”

  Austin jumped up to accompany her. He didn’t feel possessive of her, as he should. But she was a female in a house in which he was a guest. And he was not a man who sat back and let the females in his household defend him.

  When they made their way outside to the front of the house, there were six armed guards standing in a half moon shape. All of them were brandishing AK47’s. Where had they come from? He was used to seeing a couple of bodyguards, but this looked more like a SWAT team. And why in the world were they carrying automatic weapons? Back in Texas everyone had a deer rifle. But a machine gun?

  Texas…well, hell. He was from Texas! Not damn Wyoming.

  Another seed of distrust planted itself in Austin’s mind as he watched Martina march out to confront the trespassers. She was lying to him. Why?

  Tomas and Alessandra came to stand alongside him and Martina. When one of the bodyguards herded eight men into their midst, all with their hands over their head, Austin couldn’t help but react. He grabbed Martina’s arm. “What’s going on?”

  “It will be all right.” She reassured him. “This happens frequently.”

  The scene was surreal. He felt like he was watching an old spaghetti western or something. The men were like captured bandits, headed for the gallows. Austin could tell they were tired, thirsty and hungry. Two of them looked ready to collapse. After a few seconds though, he understood. He could pick up a smattering of their conversation. These men had been headed for the border when they had, unluckily, crossed Delgado land.

  “We’re sorry, Señorita. We were just meeting our coyote.”

  “Stupid! You should have checked a map.” She sauntered out toward them. “How dare you come onto Los Banos?”

  One hung his head. “El Duro. Diosa.”

  “Are you Toro?” Martina poked the pistol in one man’s cheek.

  “No, Señorita,” he whispered. “We are not Toro.”

  “Did you check them for weapons or explosives?” She addressed her employee.

  “Yes, Diosa,” another man spoke up. “They were clean.”

  “What should I do with you?” Her question was soft, but he watched the men who heard her speak, visibly shudder.

  Austin frowned. “Martina,” he called her name, softly. She ignored him.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked, instead.

  “America.” One was brave enough to say.

  “Where in America? Who are you working for?”

  “No one. We go to meet our families,” the younger one spoke, pleading with his eyes. “My wife and young son are in Texas. We will work for you, if you give us a chance.”

  “Who sent you?” she demanded again, ignoring the man’s question.

  “No one sent us. No one,” another wailed. “We would not cross you.”

  “Get rid of them!” She waved her weapon in the air.

  “Martina!” Tomas shouted. There was true fear in his voice and Austin realized it was fear for the lives of those men, and not for himself.

  She nodded her head as she passed a silent message to her guards. They took their assault weapons and pushed the men around to the side of the house. Austin braced himself, almost expecting to hear gunfire. Instead in a few moments, he saw a truck pass by with all the men loaded in the back, accompanied by two of the guards, still carrying their huge guns.

  “What will happen to them?” Alessandra asked.

  “Only what they deserve.” Martina smiled.

  Watching her, Austin realized he knew her not at all. She had changed before his eyes, morphing from a woman to a predator. He didn’t understand. Why was she being so cold and uncaring? He wondered if he was imagining the malice. He didn’t think so. Every part of him rebelled at the idea, but he had the distinct impression those men wouldn’t live to see the sunset.

  ***

  Los Banos – The next day

  He had to get away from the house. Austin felt as if he were choking on a cloud of confusion. More and more he was realizing he didn’t belong here. Something wasn’t right. The urge to just leave, walk off was more than overwhelming. He thought about stealing the keys and just driving away. The only problem was, he didn’t trust his driving yet. He hadn’t been cleared to drive and his headaches were still achingly persistent. But just as soon as he was given a clean bill of health by his doctor, he was out of here. Engagements could be broken. He was grateful for Tomas and Martina for saving his life, and he would pay them back, but not with his future. That belonged to him.

  Heading across the manicured lawn, he made his way to the barn. The smell and sounds of the horses seemed to be a comfort to his soul. As he entered the dim interior, he heard a man softly humming. Walking closer, he saw a vaquero brushing down a white mare. He was crooning to it, gentling her when her every instinct seemed to tell her to dance away. “Easy girl. Easy.”

  Austin didn’t want to startle the horse, so he hung back until the man finished and returned the animal to its stall. “Hello. That’s one fine looking animal.”

  Looking over his shoulder, the vaquero smiled. “I heard you back there. Yes, Reina is beautiful. But she is selfish. She demands my attention every day.” He filled her trough with oats and gave her fresh water. “How are you feeling, Mr. Wade?”

  Austin felt at a disadvantage. It was obvious this man knew him, but he didn’t have equal knowledge. “I’m much better.” And that was true, he did feel much improved. Like the horse, he needed to run and expend energy. There was a coiled urgent impulse to act, to rectify. Only he didn’t know which direction he should take—not yet.

  “Good. I’m glad to see you on your feet.” The big man smiled at him. “Alessandra told me of your troubles.”

  The way he said her name told Austin volumes. There was tenderness in his tone. Ah, now he knew who Martina’s sister had been waiting on the other day. “You’re American.” He stated the obvious.

  “So are you.”

  An odd knowing smile was on the other man’s face. Austin got the feeling this stranger had the answers he needed. But he also knew he would have to approach him carefully. “I think you’re right.”

  “My name is Brock Phillips.”

  They shook hands. “Austin Wade, so they say. You couldn’t prove it by me.”

  “No memories returning, yet?” Brock seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

  “Not any I can make sense of.” They were dancing around somet
hing. Austin just wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Be careful,” Philips stated flatly. “The Patrona is a difficult woman to love, I’m sure.”

  Austin laughed harshly. “You have to understand something about me and ‘the Patrona’.” He said the name with emphasis. “I don’t remember anything. These people, all of them, are strangers. This place is not my home. Hell, I don’t even know my own name. Are we friends?” Austin pointed in between the two of them.

  The cowboy turned his back and began to put up the curry comb and a blanket on a shelf against the wall. “I’d like to be your friend.”

  At the other man’s admission, it was as if a damn broke inside Austin. He had held it in so long, he needed to talk to someone. “This is like the twilight zone for me, Brock. I don’t know which end is up. Martina says she is my fiancé, but I feel more of a connection to Tomas than I do her.”

  Philips turned around, looked to the right and then to the left, as if he were making sure they were alone. “You and I need to have a long talk soon, somewhere off this ranch. There are eyes everywhere. But I want to protect Alessandra before this place goes up like a keg of dynamite.”

  Austin didn’t understand. “Go up like a keg of dynamite? What do you mean?”

  “No. We can’t talk here, I said.”

  “All right, I hear you. How about we go out for a beer tonight? Surely there’s a cantina nearby?”

  Brock continued to talk low. “Can you leave the ranch?”

  Narrowing his eyes, Austin looked at his new friend. “Can I leave the ranch? Why shouldn’t I be able to leave? I’m not a prisoner.”

  A wry laugh from Philips made the hair stand up on the back of Austin’s neck. “No, I suppose not. If you say so. Let’s do it. Eight sound good?”

  “Yes. I’ll meet you down by the garage. We’ll have to take your vehicle.” Looking at his watch, Austin noted the date. “Thanksgiving isn’t far away. Shoot, it will be another three weeks before I’m cleared to drive.” The image of a pick-up came in his head. A Ford. He drove a dark blue Ford pick-up. Now, that was progress.

  “Great. I look forward to it. What will you tell Señorita Martina about our meeting?”

  “Why, I’ll tell her the truth. What else?”

  Austin returned to the house and went up to his room to take a shower. No one seemed to be about, thank God. Of course there were always the ever-present guards standing on the front porch, rifle in hand. At first, he’d tried to reason that out and the best he’d been able to come up with was where the ranch was located and the likelihood of people coming through on their way to the US border, like they had the other day. He knew violence was prevalent down here. Drugs were everywhere and the cartels were powerful. But still, all of the weapons being bandied about seemed to be over-kill in his mind.

  Staring in the mirror, he noticed his hair was growing back over the bald spot where he’d had the operation. All in all, Austin was becoming more and more used to himself. At first, he’d looked at his own hands as if they belonged to a stranger. In many ways, he felt like an imposter. No matter how hard he tried, his past always eluded him.

  Picking up his shaving kit, he stared at it, trying to remember buying something so ostentatious. It was covered in silver. None of his things felt familiar, yet he wasn’t tempted to unpack the contents. He felt like a visitor. Opening it wide, he dug in the bag, and was surprised when his finger touched something cold and hard on the bottom. He pulled it out. It was a coin. A gold coin. Austin turned it over and over, looking at the image of a woman on the side, her delicate profile and long hair giving him an odd feeling of recognition.

  Something seemed to come over him. He could see underwater, like he was swimming. And then he saw a cave and a glimmer on the floor. A flashback ripped through his mind, causing an abrupt shaft of pain to seize his temples. He remembered! He’d found this coin while diving. A feeling of excitement overcame him. But it wasn’t just the event he remembered, it was the feeling, the significance.

  Again, he stared at the coin. Something about the woman stamped into the side was familiar. He stared at it. Who are you? He ran his hand over the grooves, over the profile. “Speak to me, beautiful. Tell me your name.” Pressing the coin to his lips, he wondered at its significance. Did it belong to her? Clasping it tightly in his palm, he squeezed it, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. “I want to remember. I want to come home.” Carefully, he placed the coin on the vanity table, shed his clothes and climbed beneath the spray. Once there, he cleansed his body, letting his mind wander freely. How many women had he known? His whole life was like a faded canvas where a detailed scene had once been painted. But the sun had beat down on it and faded the colors to just a vague pale outline. The tapestry of his life had become unraveled and he didn’t know how to reknit the strands.

  Leaning against the cool tile, Austin let the warm water sluice over him. It wasn’t something he understood, but his body longed for someone he couldn’t place. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her touch. Letting his mind meld with his dreams, he could feel her—she was here. Standing right behind him. Her lips, just those sweet, plump lips, placed a kiss right in the center of his back. He groaned, his cock immediately responding. Softly, she began to touch him, running her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Austin held his breath as she stepped closer. Now he could feel her stiff little nipples grazing the skin of his back. Little licks ran all over his shoulders. If he was really still, he could feel her teeth graze his skin. She wanted him. “Touch me, please,” he begged.

  A lilting laugh made his heart race. And when he felt her palms rub down his arms, and her breasts press flat against him, he pushed back, needing more contact. “You’re ripped. I love to touch you. I hunger for you. I ache,” she purred.

  “Don’t torture me,” he growled.

  He shuddered when her hands skated under his arms and came around to massage his pecs. She was driving him mad, rubbing his muscles, paying special attention to his nipples. Austin threw his head back, turning his face to find her lips. Their mouths crashed together and he got lost in her kiss. All the while, she petted him, molding his chest, pressing her luscious little body against his. “Please...” He was asking for something—anything.

  And then she gifted him, letting her hand glide low until she made contact with his burgeoning erection. He was stone hard, leaking and aching for her touch. No one else would do. “Do you want me to stroke you, Cowboy?”

  “God, yes,” he moaned. “I’ll die if you don’t. Ahhhh.” He sighed as her little hand grasped him, her fingers not quite meeting around his girth. And when she started to pump him, he almost lost his mind. She worked his cock, her lips and tongue still tracing erotic patterns on his back. Austin couldn’t keep his hips still. Helplessly, his hips bucked forward, needing to pound into her soft, wet pussy more than he needed life. “God, baby, this feels so good.”

  “There is no one like you. No one,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you for so long. I’ll love you forever.”

  Her words made his blood boil, the heat and desire rising in his balls, making him stand on tiptoe. God, he needed to cum. It had been so long—not since…Lord, he could remember how it felt to pound into her, how tight she was, how perfectly they fit together. “L…Love,” he cried as she jerked him off, the white, hot jets of semen splashing against the wall. Austin grunted, his whole body convulsing with ecstasy. For long moments, he pulsed, his heart pounding. Her hands slid from his body. Her touch evaporated in the steam. Austin let his cock go and collapsed against the wall, spent.

  “I’ll remember you,” he promised. “I’ll remember you, or die trying.”

  Getting out of the shower, he toweled off. God, it had felt good to masturbate. Most men would say he was crazy to forego the pleasures of fucking Martina, especially when she offered herself to him so blatantly. But something, or someone held him back. And it had to do with this coin…Austin picked it up and looked at it once more
, all the while trying to force himself to remember more, but there seemed to be a dead-bolt on the gate to his memories.

  Dressing in all black from denims, to a western jacket, hat and boots, he was ready to go. Before leaving the room, he put the coin in the front pocket of his pants. It seemed to comfort him, somehow. Heading down the stairs, he was surprised to see Martina coming through the door.

  “Darling!” She ran to give him a kiss. He hated to be so indifferent, but Austin couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal every time he even casually touched her. There was someone else, somewhere who loved him, whom he adored. He was sure of it. He could feel it.

  “Martina.” He allowed the kiss on his cheek and gave her a smile. “You’re looking well.”

  She seemed to bask in his faint praise. “Thank you.” She grabbed his hand. “Come with me to the kitchen. I have something I want to show you.”

  He followed her, not willing to dampen her good spirits. “I want to talk to you about a few things, also. If you have the time.”

  Martina looked at Aron McCoy. “You are one gorgeous man.” She ran an appreciative hand over the sleeve of the jacket. Her secretary had done a good job picking out clothes. Leaning in, she stole a kiss before he could even react. Tonight would be hard; she had to break the news to Alessandra that a marriage to Joaquin Rios would be the best for all concerned.

  He didn’t respond, but he smiled, taking down a couple of coffee cups from the cabinet. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” After Esteban had voiced his proposal, she had considered it. Conceivably, at some point in the future, the cartels could be united under her leadership. At the thought, she stood straighter. Now, all she had to do was bring Aron/Austin into the fold. Together they would be a formidable team. “I am so glad you’re with me,” she confessed, sending a little oración to the skies—and yes, she did still pray. Justifying her actions might be difficult, but providing for and protecting her family shouldn’t be a crime.

  “I am very grateful you have taken care of me.” Austin was careful how he answered. He was grateful. If what she’d told him had all been true, Martina had saved his life. He could have drowned. Then he’d never find…never remember the woman who haunted his dreams.