🔍 Silver Tongue (Slow Updates) 🔎

After Living a Day As Bait....I Doubt I'll Eat Fish Again

The best part about being bait is that I got to relax on the beach and get a bit of sun. The worst part about being bait is, you know, being bait.

The working theory of Diligence – who I guessed was the Charlie to Virtue's Angels – was that Ivan was so deep he couldn't contact Virtue directly without blowing his cover. In response, they'd spread word through some back channels that Emily Caceres escaped her detail and was hanging out on a beach in Tampico.

For the players with common sense, they'd see it for the ploy it was. For the right people – such as an opportunistic up and comer in the Omega cartel like Ivan pretending to be - it would be the perfect way to gain some stroke in the organization. A lot of people needed to see me and make a stir so big, it would give Ivan the cover to try and take me in. If after all this, Ivan didn't show, well that told a story all its own.

It also meant that my interagency babysitters would be coming for me too.

I lazed back in my beach chair, fear and embarrassment tucked into a black polka dot two-piece bathing suit better suited to someone years younger and pounds lighter. It was comfortable, but every time I watched a toned, beach body walk by me, I was both tempted to offer them a cookie and fill out an early application for social security.

"Can you still see me?" I pleaded into the mic they glued onto my tooth. It was irritating as all hell and made it feel like I constantly needed floss, but hard to find unless you knew where to look for it. They'd be able to hear me, even if I lost my earpiece and couldn't hear them.

"Yes," whispered Chastity's soft and accented feminine voice. Russian or Eastern European, perhaps? I couldn't place it. "Just relax and enjoy sun. It's nice day. Birds chirping."

Easy for my stalker to say. She was nearby, she swore, blending into our surroundings so well that no one would know she was following me. She'd done such a nice job, in fact, it felt like I was out here on my own. Like I was in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language and consorting with a group of criminals.

This was a great life choice.

I took another sip of my lime margarita and tried to prevent the semi-racist retort threatening to leave my lips. "In Communist Russia, sun enjoy you," I said, finally, unable to hold it in.

I mean, why wouldn't you agonize the person trying to help you?

Chastity said nothing, so I shifted in my chair took another sip, wondering if I should trek back to the nearby bar to order something stronger and less frozen. Unfortunately, an approaching suitor, wearing board shorts with a gold chain dangling over his hairy chest, took the choice from me. He was such obvious sleaze I was about to wave him away, until Chastity's voice buzzed in my ear.

"Flirt," she said. "I send pictures to Diligence."

I sighed and smiled at him, hoping it didn't look as forced as it was. After my blank stare at what I assumed to be something charming in Spanish, my new admirer licked his lips and tried again. "You speak English, yes?"

I nodded. "I'm here on vacation."

"Vacation alone?" He asked. "Beautiful American girl like you should have company. Can I join you?"

I shrugged, not trusting myself to say something nice. While he yelled at one of the beach vendors to rent a chair, I cupped my mouth. "Anything yet, Chastity?" I asked.

"Need more time, will tell you," she said.

Once his chair was set up next to mine, he plopped down on it, sitting upright with his eyes scanning my body in a way that made me want to shower. "You know, I studied in United States. In Colorado."

"Fascinating," I said, feeling the exact opposite. Why would studying in Colorado impress me or anyone for that matter? It's all snow and hipsters. "What do you do?" I asked, not caring, but knowing he would tell me anyway.

He took off his shades and smiled. "How do you say, real estate?"

"Oh really?" I said, sitting up. The Washington Post taught me real estate was the token way to launder money, so he was probably connected to some Cartel. "Any buildings I might know?"

Chastity's voice vibrated in my ear, scrambling his response. "He is Zeta boss. Good start. Go to bar, I distract him."

"You want to grab a drink?" I asked, impressed by how calm I sounded. Look at me, chatting with a drug lord. Ivan would be proud, I'm sure.

I stood up and walked to the nearby bar, assuming he would follow. The bar was right on the beach, one of those makeshift boxes, made more for utility than aesthetics. Dark, wooden slats covered its frame the thatch roof extended into a shade from the sun. I took a seat on one of the worn, leather stools and ordered a Sex on the Beach. I glanced back, wondering what was taking the Zeta so long.

The sleaze was flirting with someone else. One of those blond, faceless, twenty-somethings. They all looked the same. It's better that way, I guessed. Chastity could take a break...

Wait, is that Chastity? I looked back at the woman wearing three strips of cloth someone tricked her into believing was a bathing suit. Are all these Virtue women super attractive?

"Flirt," Chastity's voice rung in my ear. "Find other man, make him jealous."

I narrowed my eyes. Either Chastity was a super attractive ventriloquist, or she wasn't the blond woman. How did she set that up?

"Make him jealous?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink. "Looks like he upgraded."

"Trust me. Flirt. He will not like. Make big scene."

I slid a few pesos on the counter and wandered away, scanning for someone else who wasn't born this millennium.

Then a hand palmed my ass.

I turned and flung my drink in the culprit's face, regretting it immediately. Not throwing the drink – the handsy asshole deserved it – but that I should have been flirting and this guy was clearly interested.

He wiped his face, more Spanish that trailed off with my blank stare. After confirming that I indeed spoke English and not Spanish, he offered to buy me another drink. I smiled and nodded, returning with him to the bar. He wore tan cargo shorts and a flowered shirt he forgot to button this morning.

"I am Elias," he said, smiling. "And who is this beautiful American woman I have the pleasure of drinking with?"

"Emily," I said, biting my lip. I couldn't believe I had to give this creep my real name. "Emily Caceres."

"Emily," Elias said. "Lovely name. I must apologize for the earlier misunderstanding. If I knew you were American, I would have never been so forward."

"Hey," a voice barked from behind me. "She's with me."

Elias stood from his stool, his easy smile transformed to a snarl. "I think you're on the wrong side of town, varon. Ain't nothing on this side of town yours."

I slid behind Elias. It was kinda fun having these guys fighting over me in theory. But odds were that one of them would pull out a gun soon and it would be much less fun.

"Call Patience," I said. "Just in case."

The bickering switched to Spanish and the other people gave the men a wide berth. When the bartender ducked behind the bar and crawled away, I slowly exited the scene, hoping the argument had stopped being about my scrawny ass.

I kept my eyes on them as I backtracked away, praying I clipped nothing or make a sound, as adrenaline pumped through my veins. Their hand gestures got more exaggerated and other men joined the two of them.

I hoped this was enough of a stir, because I wasn't sure I could stomach more.

As I slipped around the corner, a squad of cops with assault rifles stormed the beach. I breathed a sigh of relief; my admirers were on a one way trip to a nearby prison then I'd get out of here, put my feet up on Bastard Brad's couch and wait until Ivan reemerged.

It wasn't until they surrounded me I realized they were here for me too.