THREE
Rules of Engagement
I sat in my apartment staring at the wall while trying to decide if I was going to stay in and get hammered, or go out and try to get laid. Yesterday was still fucking with me, and I'd been on an emotional rollercoaster since Kincade had dragged my ass into that motel room. I wasn't much of a drinker, and I damn sure didn't use drugs, but I needed something to dull my thoughts and slow my whirling mind. My maternal grandfather was an alcoholic, and as I was growing up, I'd seen firsthand the devastation his chemical dependence caused. I'd have a beer or two, and I'd sometimes indulge in something harder if the occasion called for it, or with a friend, but my coping mechanism of choice didn't come in a bottle, tablet, or a needle. Normally I handled stress by having some hot chick handle my cock, but after yesterday, the thought of picking up a woman and fucking her was messing with my mind. I glanced at the cabinet where I kept my bottle of Jim Beam and wondered if that was the better choice for tonight.
When I'd stepped out of the motel's shower yesterday, everyone except Kincade was gone. After dressing, we'd just settled into her car when her cell rang, and she'd spent the entire drive talking to someone about oversight. I could tell the conversation was pissing her off, and she'd paused her conversation when we'd arrived at TTS just long enough to kick my ass out of her car, and to tell me she'd contact me tomorrow, which was now today.
This morning I'd gone to work like normal. It was a typical day. Two hours of classroom work in the morning going over emergency field medicine, then I'd spent most of the rest of the day with five other guys working with a professional driver to practice our car control. After the driving instruction was finished, I'd drilled on the firing range for an hour or so, and then I was done. I saw Alison briefly, but she was working with another group as they ran drills in the warehouse. We acknowledged each other with a nod, but we didn't speak or smile.
When I was busy and focused, I was fine, but when I had time to think, my mind kept returning to yesterday and the motel room. I had mixed feelings about Alison and the other women. I alternated between being annoyed that I'd been used, and being grateful for having the experiences I'd shared with them. Except for Camila. My feelings for her were very clear. I'd reached out to her after I'd gotten home yesterday to find out if we still had anything. She'd taken my call, but we only spoke long enough for her to tell me not to call her again. Her attitude pissed me off. I'd wanted to take our relationship to the next level, but
she
was the one that refused to commit. Then I found out that she'd used
me,
and now she was acting like what happened was
my
fault? Well fuck that... and fuck her too.
A sharp rap on my door pulled me out of my memories. I opened the door to find Kincade standing there. Yesterday she was wearing jeans, a casual shirt, and sneakers. Today she was wearing a dark grey suit with a tight skirt, a white blouse that hinted at the amazing breasts that I knew were underneath, and short heels. Over her left shoulder was a laptop bag.
"May I come in?" I stepped back without saying anything and closed the door behind her. She tossed the laptop onto the couch, unzipped a side pocket, and extracted an unlabeled manila folder. "You ready to get down to business?"
"Depends. Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on or are we going to keep playing games?"
"Trust me, this is anything but a game."
"That's not an answer."
She flashed a smile before she turned and walked to the eat-in kitchen. "I'll answer all your questions," she said as she tossed the folder onto my small, four-person dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
I followed, pulled out the chair across from her, and settled in. "Okay. First, tell me what the hell is going on."
"I told you yesterday. I want you to go deep undercover and find out who Toro is."
"Who's Toro?"
"Weren't you listening? I don't
know
who he is. Toro is the DEA's code name for the biggest heroin trafficker in Mexico."
I paused as I thought a moment. I remembered her telling me that she'd trained me for the mission, but I couldn't understand
why
, and what she wanted from me. "Okay, but what does that have to do with me? I have a DPT. Why do you think I'm the right guy to go after this Toro guy?"
"I think you know why."
"Because of my ability?"
"That's right."
"I don't understand. What has that got to do with anything?"
"Look, the DEA has sent in three agents to infiltrate the Toro organization over the past three or four years, and all three are confirmed dead. What they're doing isn't working. That's where I come in. As I told you, this is totally black ops. Other than me, only Anne Milgram, head of the DEA, and Merrick Garland, the--"
"The Attorney General?" I barked.
"Yes. Other than me and those two, nobody knows anything about this. The DEA is very good at their job, but three agents have been killed on this investigation and they've still got nothing. The Mexican government is worse than useless, and this is their final attempt to shut this asshat down and bring him to justice."
"Okay, great, but you haven't said why me."
"Toro is one sick bastard. We know he runs some kind of sex circus. Rather than--"
"What do you mean, 'sex circus'?"
She shook her head. "We don't know, exactly. We just know that it goes on. That's why I needed to find your limits, to discover what you would and wouldn't do. Because we're flying blind, we need you to be ready for anything."
I stared at her. "That's why..."
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm hoping if I put you in country, and you stir up a bunch of shit, Toro will come to you. You're not DEA, you have no connection to the DEA, and nobody at the DEA knows anything about this operation. You're totally clean."
"If you know this is going on, why don't you arrest him at the sex shows?"
"Because, Anders, Mexico isn't the United States. We have no jurisdiction there. These are powerful men with a lot of official, and unofficial, protection. We have zero evidence to connect them to the sale or transportation of drugs, and it's not illegal to host sex parties... or to protect your identity." She looked at me with her lips thinned. "We've tried to get the Mexican government to do just that, but they've refused until we can provide evidence of wrongdoing, which we can't."
"So you do know who they are?"
"We know who Toro's lieutenants are. Bautista Pico, Sergio Martos, and Diego Garcia, but we don't know who Toro is."
"And Mexico won't try to sweat that out of them?"
"Not without proof, no. As I told you, these are wealthy and well-connected men. We
know
they're pulling the strings, but until we can find out who Toro is, we can't tie them to anything illegal. He's the key. Once we know who
he
is, we can use that to get the warrants we need to gather the evidence to tie what we do know to individuals... assuming Mexico will play ball."
"So, what is it you want me to do, exactly?"