Echoes of a Distant Summer (87 page)

At midnight Jackson was relieved from duty but he could not go to sleep. He sat on the steps of the porch and studied the night sky and the quiet countryside. He heard the porch creak behind him. He turned and saw Maria standing there. She wore a gingham dress with a shawl over her shoulders. Her large eyes glistened in the dimness of starlight. She sat down beside him on the steps.

“Is it all right if I join you?” she asked in a soft voice. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’d rather have your company than anyone else’s.”

She touched his face. “Are you always so kind? You seem even nicer than I imagined, so unspoiled, almost innocent.”

Jackson chuckled. “I wouldn’t call myself innocent, but I do try to be nice; of course, that’s no struggle with you. You’re easy to be nice to. I’ve been thinking about our ride all day.” He could feel the heat of her body even though he was not touching her. The tension of his desire was strong and he felt himself grow aroused.

Maria bit her bottom lip and said, “I’ve been thinking about the way you touched me and kissed me. I have never been held so tenderly.” She edged over next to him, so that their knees were touching. When Jackson said nothing, she asked, “Am I too forward?” Her eyes were filled with concern and unspoken pleas.

“No, I’m glad to hear that you feel the same way as I do. I’ve been thinking about you too. I wanted to touch you more, but I wondered if I was too forward.”

A breeze gusted up the steps and blew Maria’s dress up to midthigh, exposing her long, brown-skinned legs. She did not pull her dress down again, but instead stared at Jackson’s face. He returned her gaze then stared down at her exposed legs. He could not deny his desire. He placed a hand on her bare thigh and felt the soft, unresisting skin. She watched his hand as he gently pressed her legs apart and pushed it slowly up between her legs. Jackson contented himself with caressing the softness of her inner thigh. He did not want to be too pushy and risk her rejection. But nonetheless, his desire was growing and hardening into an unquellable force.

He kissed her and she responded with lips and tongue. It was a long, passionate kiss. Jackson’s hand moved up higher between her thighs and probed the dampness between her legs. She arched her back and gasped in reaction to his touch then she grabbed his hand.

“I must tell you something,” she whispered in a husky, aroused tone. “I am not pure! You’re the first of my choosing, but you are not the first. My uncle used to use me whenever he wanted and sometimes he gave me to other men. I don’t want you to think you’re getting something unspoiled. I want you to know the truth; then, if you still want me, I want you!”

The truth was that Jackson was so aroused that if she’d told him that she’d been with the entire Mexican Army, he would not have been dissuaded, but he felt strangely touched that she should volunteer such information. He was totally disarmed. “I am the first that you wanted to be with?” She nodded silently. Jackson smiled. “Then it’s the first time.”

Tears seeped from her eyes. “Thank you!” she sobbed. “I have
dreamed about this moment for nearly a year. I knew that I would want you! Please hold me!”

Jackson put both arms around her and held her until her tears subsided. He could smell the smoke of the cooking fire in the thick, silky blackness of her hair. He felt her hand slowly make its way up to the crotch of his pants. He could not ever remember being as aroused as he was at that moment.

Maria raised her head. “Where can we go?”

“There is a hayloft above the stable,” Jackson suggested.

Maria stood up and offered her hand to him. “Let’s go.”

They walked to the stables in the darkness and climbed the old ladder into the hayloft. Between bales of hay, they lay kissing on a pungent carpet of drying fodder. It did not distract them in the least. Jackson pulled down the shoulder of Maria’s blouse and exposed her nipple, which grew hard as he sucked on it. He felt her tremble and put his hand back up into the dampness between her legs. She pulled up her dress and took off her underwear. She pressed him down on his back and unfastened his jeans, pulling them down around his knees. She straddled his thighs and guided him into her wetness. She rocked on top of him until she felt release come in the tremors of her climax. She collapsed on top of him. He was still hard inside of her. He put his arms around her and thrust deep into her with a slow and ancient rhythm. Each time he entered her, he felt the spasms as she contracted around him. When he finally came, he felt that he had reached a peak that was unique and rarely revisited.

They lay in each other’s arms until they heard someone enter the stable. Whoever it was, the person was attempting to be quiet. Jackson quickly pulled on his pants. He had no weapons and he cursed himself for being lax. Jackson crouched, ready to throw himself at the ladder should the interloper attempt to climb it.

“Diablito? Are you in here? Is Maria with you?” It was Carlos’s voice.

Jackson took a deep breath and felt embarrassed. “We’re here, Carlos. Is something wrong?”

“Not now,” Carlos answered with a chuckle. “Be ready to ride early in the morning! We’ll be scouting pigs!”

“Don’t worry, Carlos. I’ll be ready!” He lay back down in the darkness of the loft. He saw the dark outline of Maria raise herself on one elbow. He thought he saw a smile on her face.

Maria said, “You shouldn’t have told Carlos that you’ll be ready.”

“Why?” Jackson asked, feeling her hand slowly traverse up his pants leg.

“Take off your pants,” Maria murmured. “We’re not finished here. Take them all the way off this time.”

Jackson wasn’t ready the next morning when Carlos came for him, but he pulled himself into his clothes and climbed down from the loft. He was alone. Maria had departed some time during the night. Jackson rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the source of the voice. He had hay in his hair and clinging to his clothing.

Carlos looked at Jackson and laughed and said, “Wolf cub! Wolf cub! You look like she fucked the daylights out of you! Are you sure you can sit a saddle?”

“No problem,” Jackson replied, making halfhearted attempts to brush the hay from his hair and clothing.

Carlos looked at Jackson carefully. “You know this girl has lived a hard life. She is no angel, although she may look angelic to you. She is no fool either. She does things for reasons; be aware.”

“What are you saying?” Jackson challenged, suddenly angry that his woman should be given such short shrift. Unable to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he squinted at her detractor.

“You need some cold water! I said ‘be aware,’ not ‘beware’! I’ll get you a clean shirt and some pants from the house. Meanwhile, you better wash yourself into a high state of alertness and get that fodder smell out of your hair. I had soap and towels along with a couple of buckets of water put behind the stables for you.” Carlos turned and walked away.

Even the cold water in which he washed could not detract from the warmth that Jackson felt. Maria was the most beautiful and exciting woman that he had ever been with. Soft and sensual, warm and wise, she seemed to be the answer to his silent prayers. He wondered whether he was already in love with her. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her. Perhaps all his fears and doubts about visiting his grandfather had been unfounded. Maybe this visit would be truly a pleasurable experience. He whistled happily as he finished rinsing in the frigid water.

P
aul DiMarco sat in his rental car and studied the construction site through binoculars. The first and second floors of the community center had been walled in, but the third still had steel beams visible. Most of the construction crew had left when the Klaxon had sounded at five, but there were still two cement trucks in position to pour the last of the interior floor and foundation for the building and there was a team of five men waiting to work with the cement. Even from the distance where the car was parked, the ambient noise of the construction site and the surrounding industrial park was considerable. One could hear the grind and clank of heavy cranes and construction equipment, and underneath that the steady background roar of machinery from a nearby factory that extruded plastic along with the regular beat of its giant presses which printed plastic wrappings. Weaving through those sounds was the clatter and jangle of small business metalworks and body shops.

Mickey Vazzi, who sat in the passenger seat, took a long pull on his cigarette, his pitted face displaying the pleasure he took in the taste of tobacco. He blew a smoke ring and asked, “You see anything fishy?”

Paul shook his head. “Not yet. Those cement trucks are dumping their loads now. When they pull out and those men down there finish packing it down, we’ll go down and see if that nigger Witherspoon brought everything he was supposed to.”

“You really think he was able to get his hands on five hundred thousand in cash? You only gave him a day and a half.”

“Sure! Braxton and me, we used to keep in his safe a floating cash reserve fund of a million and a half for small buys, housing, bail, and legal incidentals. We haven’t taken any money out of it since we paid that Vietnamese gang a million for the hit on Chinatown’s big two. There should still be at least half a million in there. You’ll get two hundred thousand. That should allow you and your family to disappear for a year. By then I’ll have worked out something.”

Vazzi exhaled smoke and nodded. “That’s mighty generous of you.”

Paul affirmed, “Mickey, you’re my right hand. I’ve trusted you with the most important jobs and you did what I needed. You’re a good soldier. I’m sorry that you got to go on the run because of me.” Paul picked up his binoculars and studied the jumble of warehouses and small industrial
businesses that made up the surrounding area. He saw nothing that was glaringly out of order. He had no reason to believe that anyone knew that he and Mickey were meeting Delbert at the community center construction site, but there was now a price on his head. Caution was crucial. The reason he had only Mickey with him was that he didn’t trust any of the other people on his payroll. Delbert himself posed no threat, but there was always the possibility that some of Braxton’s muscle might be nearby. He could not be too sure of anything. Paul studied the perimeter of the construction site for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Paul had scheduled to meet Delbert Witherspoon at six in the evening, but he had arrived at three-thirty to scope out the scene. The previous Friday he had spent several hours reconnoitering the site, so he had some idea as to what normal activity looked like. He saw Delbert’s car arrive at a quarter after five and pull up to the gate. There was a brief exchange with the security guard, then Delbert drove through the hurricane fence topped by barbed wire and disappeared around the corner of an extra-wide trailer that was being used as an administrative office. Paul waited until the two cement trucks had pulled out of the gate before he started his car and drove to a point a block away from the construction site. He intended to enter the site through a slit he had cut in the back of the fence the day before. He and Vazzi were wearing stained coveralls over bulletproof vests. When they donned their hard hats and sunglasses, they’d blend in with the majority of workers in the industrial park. They left the car in an alley behind a Dumpster and walked a circuitous route to the site. All around them was the ambient noise of large machinery grinding through its repetitive motions.

They entered the slit without problems and began to make their way through a maze created by a series of towering stacks of building materials, many of which were covered with a thick translucent plastic. DiMarco and Vazzi were working toward the trailer when two men passed in front of them. DiMarco and Vazzi were not seen because they ducked down behind a stack of cement blocks, but they were close enough to overhear the discussion between the two men.

One of the men asked his companion, “What time is he due?”

“Don’t you worry about that!” retorted the other. “You just hurry and get the entrance covered!”

The rest of the conversation was inaudible because the men moved
away. DiMarco muffled a curse and turned to say something to Vazzi and noticed that Vazzi was immediately behind him and that there was a wild look in his eyes. The look on Vazzi’s face was unsettling. Fortunately for DiMarco, his pistol was in his hand. He backed away from Vazzi and demanded in a whisper, “What’s going on?”

Vazzi stammered, “Uh, nothing, boss. I’m just worried we might get into some gunplay and never get the money.”

At that moment DiMarco knew that Vazzi had set him up. DiMarco wanted to kick himself. He should’ve seen it coming. It was the smart move. He would’ve made the same decision in Vazzi’s shoes. Briefly he considered turning back then discarded the idea. Despite the dangers, he had no choice but to go ahead. He needed the cash in order to set his family up safely. He would not be accessing his bank accounts until he had set up some type of front to throw off his pursuers. He looked at Vazzi and anger filled him. Just because it was logical didn’t make him happy with Vazzi’s change of allegiance. He had always hated people who betrayed him. He gestured with his gun. “You go in front and if there’s any shooting, I’ll be right behind you.”

Vazzi didn’t stop to plead or question. He stepped past DiMarco and led the way across the open ground to the trailer. Before they were halfway to their goal, a voice called out, “Hold it right there, Paul!” It was Edward’s voice. Paul jerked around looking for the source of the words. “Don’t waste time looking for me! I’ve got three semiautomatic rifles aimed at your legs. If you try anything now, I’ll make sure you die a slow, painful death. Get his gun, Mickey!”

Three men armed with automatic weapons stepped out from behind some of the stacks of equipment as Vazzi turned to face DiMarco. Vazzi looked into DiMarco’s eyes, shrugged, then reached for DiMarco’s gun. DiMarco let him grip the barrel then twisted the gun and fired through Vazzi’s hand into his armpit. The gun’s discharge was loud even against the background noise of the surrounding businesses. Vazzi stumbled backward and fell to the ground, blood quickly covering his side. DiMarco wanted to fire another round into Vazzi, but he knew better than to push his luck. He dropped the gun and put his hands over his head.