Unapologize
By: PricklySare
A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I tried to respond to everyone, but I might have missed a few. I'm sorry if that's the case. Special thanks go to the M's and Stayce. Without you guys there would probably be full sentences missing from this chapter. LOL.
Sare
Chapter Forty-two: Dead Rangers Don't Tell Tales-Part 2
Ranger's POV
I must have fallen asleep while I was having my heart to heart with God, because when I opened my eyes again sun was filtering in through the cracks in the walls. The coolness of the light told me that it was still early and the sun was just rising. For the first time since this mission had started I felt centered, steady. I wasn't sure whether my new found peace was because of something spiritual, or because I'd finally gotten the rest my body so desperately needed. I wasn't a particularly religious man, instead choosing to believe in things I could physically see and touch. However, being raised Catholic, even though I hadn't practiced it in years, I knew that sometimes you just didn't question what you didn't understand. You just accepted it and moved on.
My head was finally on straight, and a few things had become clear to me. Unfortunately, those things weren't going to do me any good until I got back into the United States, but at least I had a clear mind, and my heart no longer felt like it was shattered beyond repair. Sometime during the night my heart and mind had come into agreement. There was no way that Steph was marrying Morelli. Especially not after that scene at Dante's the night I got called for this mission. She was too strong to fall back into something like that. I remembered the way she was that night, full of fire, and righteous indignation. It was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, and it made my heart stop in my chest when I realized that she loved me. Loved me so much, in fact, that she was willing to face the wrath of not just her mother and sister, but the gossip of the entire 'Burg. She was an astonishing woman, and just as soon as I made it back to the states, I was going to make her mine. Officially, and permanently. Mind, body, and soul.
Picking up my gear I slid silently out the massive church doors, closing them behind me, and melted into the early morning shadows. The streets were silent, the citizens still asleep in their beds, or just waking up to begin their day. It was just the quiet morning sounds, and me, walking through the Plaza. I knew what I needed to do, where I needed to go, and just how I was going to do it. Now that I had a plan, and a clear head, I needed to push aside all emotions and fall back on my training. Even though my official mission was over, I was still on a mission. This time, the mission was personal, and I needed to use every bit of training I had to complete it. All the money it had cost the United States to train me was going to be put into good use getting me across the border without their knowledge.
Like donning a jacket, I locked away Carlos Manoso and once again became Nychta. It was show time.
Several hours, and two grand later, I had the information I needed to get myself out of Mexico City and into Tijuana. When dealing with people who make their money off of other people's hope you need to know a few things: Money speaks to everyone, and when money isn't the language they speak, or in many cases the amount of money that is being offered isn't the language they speak, then violence is the answer. I clicked the safety back on my gun and looked at the man that cowered in front of me. His name was José, and he had a problem. He was greedy. In my experience, it is one thing to be greedy, and another to be both greedy and stupid. He was both, and he had been trying my patience.
"Gracias, José," I said, right before I knocked him out with the butt of my gun. There was no need to take the chance that he would give into another rash of stupidity and try to shoot me in the back. Before greed and stupidity had clouded his judgment, José had given me the location of a small air field that was often used for the transporting of immigrants who were making their way toward the border. It had taken me the better part of the morning greasing palms, and when that didn't work, intimidating people in order to locate the man with the information I needed. I glanced at my watch; I had four hours to get to the air field and bribe my way onto the cargo plane that was taking off from there.
Public transportation wasn't an option, and I didn't have time to get there on foot, so I decided to find a vehicle I could commandeer. Since I was in Nezahualcóyotl, the Mexico City equivalent to Southeast DC, it didn't take me long to avail myself of someone else's transportation. Ten minutes later I was on my way to the air strip driving a gray, 2001 Honda Civic that had seen better days. Even though I was in the middle of a largely populated city, the drive was reminiscent of the rough terrain in many third world countries. The speed bumps that filled the streets were the size of sand dunes, and they required finesse to clear. The constant speeding up, braking, then speeding up again was fucking with my zone. Damn that bastard, Tove, who thought those fuckers up.
It took over an hour to get from Nezahualcóyotl, to Naucalpan de Juárez, where the air field was located. I pulled off the road and into an overgrown lot, leaving the car before making the five miles to the field on foot. I knew the car would be missing within an hour, and most likely in a chop shop ten minutes later. Blending in with the shadows, I kept to back roads and alleyways as I made my way out of the city. In addition to my usual weapons I'd strapped a knife to each forearm and placed a gun and holster on my ankle. If needed, there was more firepower in the pack I had strapped to my back.
I knew the moment I was no longer alone, and prepared myself for what would happen next. The two guys who stepped from around the side of the rundown warehouse walked with a swagger born of stupidity and enhanced by an over-inflated ego. They spoke in rapid Spanish, leering and taunting back and forth. I remained silent, watching, already knowing each move they were going to make. Not too many years ago I'd been those guys. Only, even then, I'd been better. "You must be lost," one of the guys said in Spanish. I just continued to watch them, waiting. "You dumb or something?" He continued on when I hadn't answered.
Willing my body to appear completely relaxed, I rested lightly on the balls of my feet, my legs spread slightly apart in a fighting stance, prepared to dispatch the interruption quickly. Two more steps, and they would be down, and I would be on my way to the cargo plane. "You know man," the guy said to his still silent buddy. "I think he's ignoring us." One step.
"I think you're right. Maybe we should show him what happens when we're ignored," the second guy said, breaking his silence as they both advanced. Two. I grabbed the guy closest to me by his neck lifting him off the ground. His eyes bulged in surprise and fear right before I knocked his head against the wall. His buddy advanced on me from the side and I maneuvered myself into position before I lashed out with a side kick, connecting with his solar plexus. Dropping the first guy in a heap beside my feet I walked over to the cholo still gasping for breath. Lifting his upper body slightly I wrapped my arm around his neck in a sleeper hold. When his unconscious body went limp I released him. It was time to move out; I had a plane to catch.
Twenty minutes later I approached the hanger, keeping my eyes open for the person holding my metaphorical ticket. It didn't take me long to find him. Jorge Valdez was a small man who was fluent in the language of money. How much he had, how much he could get, and what he could do to get more of it was all he cared about. Knowing how to deal with men like him made the next step of my mission easy. I kept my face devoid of all emotion, making my eyes cold as I walked up to him. He wasn't armed, and even if he had been I wasn't worried. I addressed him in fluent, rapid Spanish, "You have a ticket for me."
"Refresh my memory," he said. "Where are you going?"
"Tijuana."
"Right. Right," he said, nodding his head, his eyes glowing in anticipation of the money he was going to rip off me. "That is an expensive destination."
"Not that expensive," I stated, my voice flat. I was not someone he could steal from, and I was going to make sure he knew it.
"Of course not. I will give you a good deal." I just looked at him, eyebrow raised, waiting. "Sixty-four thousand pesos," he said.
"Try again."
He shook his head, "Man, it's inflation," he said, raising his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.
My voice grew harder and I took another step toward him, invading his personal space. "Try. Again," I said.
His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, "You got US dollars?" he asked. I just nodded. "Okay, good. How about I only charge you half? Twenty-five hundred."
"I'll give you a thousand and you'll live to scam another day." His eyes grew wide and I smiled inside.
"Good doing business with you," he said, pocketing the cash. "You can get on board now."
"I'll wait," I said. I'd had too much experience with opportunistic people to turn my back on a possible threat, or board a plane before it was ready for take off.
The cargo plane was small; a Cessna 208, and aside from the two in the cock pit there were no seats on the plane. I placed myself between two cargo crates that were strapped in, and braced for the take off. This wasn't the first time I'd had to sit on the floor of a cargo plane, and I was pretty sure that it wouldn't be my last. That was unless I decided to tell the government to take their contract and shove it. The thought was getting more and more appealing.
I was surprised to find I was alone on the flight. I'd half expected the cargo hold to be crammed with illegal immigrants making their way to the border. Although I could have handled it, I was thankful that I'd have one less complication to deal with. There had already been plenty of trials and irritations since this mission began, and I wasn't naive enough to believe that there wouldn't be more before I got back home.
When the plane leveled off I relaxed against the wall, and removed my gun from its ankle holster. There were two other people on this plane with me, and I didn't trust either of them, so my weapon was going to spend the flight readily accessible. I needed to get sleep since we'd be landing late, and I wouldn't make it across the border before 0300. There'd been times during missions when I'd gone without sleep for days at a time, functioning simply on adrenaline and determination. Because of those times, I'd learned to sleep whenever I could. Closing my eyes I focused on my breathing and drifted off to sleep.
The soft fragrance of Dolce Vita along with Steph's own unique scent of arousal wrapped itself around my senses, pulling me down. I knew it was a dream and that I should've woken myself up, but I needed to feel the connection to Steph. Things were still unsettled, and there was no telling how long before they would be. Until I could wrap my arms around her, feeling her heart beat against mine, I would have to settle for the fleeting passion of my dreams. Shutting Nychta away, I allowed for the man behind the soldier to dream.
Flickering candle light shined on the padlock that secured the thin length of leather around her pale throat. She was naked, on her knees in front of me, thighs spread apart, hands clasped behind her back, head bowed. She was mine, and submissive to only me. Her juices were glistening along her pussy lips, and down her inner thighs. Her perky breasts quivered each time she took a breath, and I wanted nothing more than to bury myself deeply inside her.
"Get up, now," I told her. My eyes took in every inch of her as she complied without question. My woman was a complete contradiction. Fierce and independent to the world, willing to go toe to toe with anyone who tried to control her. But, when the collar went on she was mine. Mine to do what I pleased, and my pleasure came from making her scream out as one intense orgasm after another rocked her body.
She stood in front of me, beautiful and naked. Her arms were still behind her back, her fingers laced, maintaining a properly submissive pose. I gently lifted her chin with my finger, raising her eyes to meet mine. They were clouded with desire, and I knew it wouldn't take much for her to fall over the peak. "You will not cum until I give you permission. If you disobey me, you will be punished." I stroked my finger down her cheek and along her jaw. "Do you understand, Babe?"
"Yes, Master," she said, her voice rough with desire.
"Very good. Now, walk over to table and lie down on your back." Her legs were visibly trembling as she walked the short distance. When she reached the table she slid onto it, maneuvering herself to the center, and lay down on her back. "Spread your legs, Babe." She slid her legs apart, opening herself wide for my viewing. "Good. Arms above your head, now." I was trying to keep control of my own need, and the strain was evident in my voice. My hold was already slipping, and I hadn't done nearly enough with her. It wasn't my time yet.
In three strides I was beside the table, admiring her prone body. Gently trailing my hand up the inside of her right arm, I wrapped the cuff around her wrist, satisfied when it locked in place with a click. I repeated the action on her left arm, and felt my cock twitch when her breath shuddered out in an almost silent moan. I trailed both hands slowly and gently down her body, avoiding her nipples and her dripping pussy, teasing her sensitive flesh with my calloused fingers. When my hands reached her ankles I lifted the right one, flicking my tongue around the bone and along the indentation between her ankle and heel. Her body arched with pleasure and she moaned, "Ohhh." I wrapped the leather cuff around her ankle before moving onto her left leg, repeating my actions.
Her body now made a perfect triangle, arms above her head in a point, legs spread wide. "Beautiful," I whispered as I stared at her.
"Carlos," she whispered, and I felt my cock jump. I was painfully hard inside my cargoes and could feel the pre-cum pearling on my tip, dampening the front of my pants.
When I spoke, my voice came out in a cracking growl, "You do NOT have permission to talk." Her eyes widened, and I could see her internal struggle. Two very different personalities were against each other. Her need to be dominated against her very basic need to tell me to 'fuck off'. "Which desire is going to win, Babe?" She narrowed her eyes at me and remained silent, her breath coming out in pants. I let out a laugh, "Let me know when you've decided. I'll be right here." Suffering.
It only took her a few breaths to decide, but to my throbbing cock it felt like an eternity. I knew the exact moment she gave in to her need to be dominated. Her eyes grew softer, the cloud of passion once again moving in. Her soft, "I'm sorry, Master," was only a formality, and we both knew it.
"Very good, Babe. Now, close your eyes." Without a sound she did as she was told, and the storm that was brewing in her blue depths was blocked by long, thick lashes. The room was lit with candles, all in different colors. I picked up the taper candle closest to me, a black one, and slowly moved it around allowing the flame to melt more of the wax. "Keep your eyes closed, Babe," I said, as I tipped the candle over allowing hot wax to fall onto her skin in the valley between her breasts. Her back arched at the unexpected pain, but her eyes remained shut. "That's good, Babe. Very good."
Replacing the candle to its spot, I pickup up a rough bristled paintbrush from the table and dipped it into the melted wax of a neon pink candle. When it was covered in wax, I slowly trailed it along her hip bones, enjoying the sight of her skin twitching with each stroke. Her breath was coming out in ragged gulps and I hadn't even come close to touching her swollen clit. I repeated the process again and again, using different colors and different brushes. Every touch brought out another whimper, groan, or gasp, from her lips. "That's right, Babe. You like that, don't you?"
"Yes, Master."
"What do you want, Babe? Do you want more?"
"I want you inside me, Master." Oh, I wanted to sheath myself inside her, to feel her skin against my own, but I only had so much control.
"Not yet, Babe." Her only response was another whimper. Deeper, this time, than the others had been. I picked up another candle and said, "Open your eyes, Babe." When she did I said, "Good. Now don't close them." When her eyes focused on the candle in my hand they went wide, and grew smokey. "That's right, Babe. I want you too see exactly when I drop the wax on your hard nipples. When I drip it onto your swollen clit." She bit her bottom lip and kept her eyes focused on the candle in my hand.
I tweaked her rosy nipples with the fingers of my left hand, bringing them to even stiffer peaks before I placed my tongue against them in a gentle caress. I repeated it again and again until her eyes began to close. I couldn't have that. Her eyes needed to be open. With a quick flick of my wrist I sent a stinging slap to each nipple. "Eyes Open!"
Her eyes flew wide and she sighed, "Yes, Master."
"Better." I tipped the candle above each nipple and forced myself not to smile in satisfaction as the hot wax dripped onto her distended nipples. She cried out and pulled against her restraints. I growled low in my throat before moving towards her pussy, trailing my fingers along her skin. Her body relaxed and she let out a long sigh. Her eyes were still fixed on the candle in my hand, and I could feel her body tense in anticipation. She was close, so very close to letting go, and I knew it wasn't going to take much. It was time to allow my beautiful, strong, Babe to get her release.
When I reached the dripping folds of her sex I inhaled deeply, and her scent once again wrapping itself around me. I leaned down and brushed my tongue along her slit, avoiding her swollen clit. The taste of her was intoxicating, my own personal dessert. Dipping my tongue into her warmth, I was consumed by the taste of peaches and the richest cream. I inhaled again and couldn't stop the moan that slipped from my throat. She was holding her body incredibly still, her muscles bunched with the intensity of her need. I slid two fingers into her juices and smiled in appreciation as her body arched and a gasp came from her lips.
Slowly I pumped my fingers in and out, curling them and flicking the spongy ball of nerves with the tips each time. I felt her muscles tightening and demanded, "Cum, now." I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucking hard, and she came instantly, her release covering my hand, filling my mouth. I continued moving my fingers inside her and released her from my lips. Just as her muscles began relaxing I tipped the candle over and dripped the wax onto her sensitive clit, and she came again, her muscles squeezing, and her body arching off the table as she screamed her release.
The slow decline of the plane woke me from my dream, Steph's taste still lingering on my tongue, the physical result pressing painfully against the material of my pants. I shifted my position slightly, trying to adjust my hard length. A glance at my watch showed that it was nearing midnight. Even though I had slept, I didn't feel rested. My sleep, plagued with other dreams that I couldn't remember. I replaced my gun in its holster and leaned my head back against the wall. Adjusting my body, and once again securing my gear, I locked away the last remnants of my dream. The soldier came back to the forefront of my conscious, and I focused on the next part of the mission.
The landing had been amazingly smooth considering my flight accommodations, and the condition of the stretch of rutted ground the locals referred to as a runway. It didn't matter to me, I'd landed on worse. I'd disembarked without notice and merged into the night. Now, two hours later I was less than a mile away from the border of California. I was good, damn good, at getting into and out of places without being seen, but even with knowledge and skill getting across the border into the U.S wasn't going to be easy.
I was far enough away from the border patrol station that I needed to use night vision binoculars to scan the area. In the last hour I'd counted fifteen patrols along this section of the border. This meant I'd have roughly four minutes to disable an agent, commandeer his vehicle, and get into the United States without having to actually impersonate the agent. I checked my watch. Two minutes until the next round. I scrambled from my place behind the desert foliage, and laid myself prone, gun in hand, but hidden beneath my chest. Relaxing my body I slowed my breathing down and waited, mentally ticking off the time.
Right on time, the sound of an all-terrain vehicle made its way toward me. It slowed and came to a stop a hundred feet away, and I heard the door open, but not shut. The sound of footsteps were muted on the dirt, but the agent was far from silent. "Four nineteen to base, looks like we've got some roadkill."
"Verify, four nineteen," squawked the voice on his radio.
"Affirmative. Four nineteen out," the agent replied as he got closer. The smell of his two pack a day habit, and the coffee he must have been mainlining wafted around him. When he bent down to check my pulse I heard him say, "Poor, dumb bastard," right before I rose up and knocked the back of my skull into his face. I heard the sound of cartilage breaking and his muffled curse before I grabbed him around the neck in a sleeper hold. When his body went limp I quickly stripped him of his hat, windbreaker and weapons. Once I'd donned the agent's jacket and hat, I cuffed him with his flexi-cuffs and tossed him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. His body was beginning to twitch, and I knew he wouldn't be unconscious for much longer.
The vehicle he'd been driving was often referred to as a taxi; an unimaginative euphemism for the jail on wheels that would take illegal immigrants to the Border Patrol Station. I opened up the swinging backdoor and belted him into one of the stainless steel seats. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodations, but at least he wasn't left unconscious and unarmed in the middle of a hostile area. Sliding behind the wheel I checked my watch. I had three minutes to get across the border before the next patrol. Plenty of time.
"Base to four nineteen. Did you verify the body?" the radio squawked. I knew I had to respond. Fuck.
"Four nineteen to base, false alarm," I responded, hoping that it would be enough to get me through the next few minutes.
"Affirmative. Base out." Thank God. I drove carefully across the last rutted mile of Mexico, headed toward the access road that served the Border Patrol. When I cleared the border into the U.S I felt some of the tension I'd been carrying in my shoulders, fall away. Even though I was officially on American soil, I remained constantly aware of my surroundings. This mission was nowhere near being completed. Until it was, I wouldn't truly be able to relax. I still had to abandon the vehicle and make it through the barren land into a border town before I could let my guard down.
Pulling into a section of undergrowth I removed the keys from the ignition and placed them on the floor mat. I didn't need the gun, and didn't want to deal with the added headache of walking off with one that belonged to a federal agent; so after removing the magazine and wiping it down, I placed it inside the glove compartment. I used the radio to notify the base that their agent was locked in the back of the truck then climbed out, locking it and wiping my prints off before melting into the darkness. I glanced at my watch again, exactly four minutes.
It was another hour before I reached a rundown motel that wouldn't ask a lot of questions about a guy who looked like he'd been sleeping in the desert. As long as there was cash involved, the manager wouldn't have cared if I'd run a brothel out of the room, as long as he got a cut. It was too late to connect with my contact, and my body was feeling the effects of the flight to Tijuana. I dropped my gear, removed my arsenal, and placed my gun on the bathroom counter before stripping out of my clothes and climbing into the scalding water of the shower. Five minutes later I was dressed in a clean pair of cargoes, my gun beside me on the nightstand, and lying spread out on the bed. "I'll be home soon, Babe," I whispered before dropping into sleep.