29. Olivia
Chapter twenty-nine
Olivia
The following day, I woke up and snuggled into Alex’s arms. I grab my phone off the nightstand to look at the time. It's a little after 8 a.m. when I notice that Rachel isn't in bed with us.
I get up and head to the bathroom first to relieve myself and brush my teeth. Then, I grabbed a black shirt from Alex’s drawer and put it over my head. It barely covers my ass, but I don’t even care. Walking through the hall and down the stairs, I smell bacon, and my stomach makes a loud grumble in appreciation of the smell. When I make it down the stairs, I see Rachel also in one of Alex’s shirts, which hangs down to her thighs. She has music playing as her hips swing to the rhythm.
I walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and kiss her neck. She jumps, and I can’t help but chuckle at her. “Good morning, princess. How did you sleep?”
She turns around and jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, and kisses me with so much passion it almost makes me fall over. I grab her ass and squeeze as she moans in my mouth.
“Well, that is one of the most amazing good mornings I have ever gotten,” I mumble into her mouth.
She laughs and wraps her legs tighter around me, kisses me again quickly, and mutters. “I missed you.”
“I was right up the stairs. You could have woken me up.” Before I could get my whole thought out, she was wrapping her hands in my hair and licking at the seam of my mouth to get me to open up. When she gets the access she wants, her tongue slides against mine slowly, dancing around in passion. I grab a fistful of her hair and deepen the kiss, allowing her to dominate my mouth. I want to see what she will do; I know I'm the first girl she's ever been with, but you wouldn’t guess that from how she demands my attention.
I put her ass on the counter and push her thighs open so I can step in between them. I start running my hands up her thighs and exploring her body. As I work my way up her thighs to her hips, I pull her closer to me, and she wraps her legs around me again. She tightens her legs more if I am going to disappear if she doesn't hold on to me for dear life.
I make my way to the hem of the shirt she is wearing and pull it over her head. Pleased to find she has nothing on under, I reach up and grab each of her heavy breasts in my hands and squeeze them, rolling her pebbled nipples with my finger and thumb, making her arch her back. I break off the kiss, lean my head down to the rosy bud that is hard and inviting me to play, and put it in my mouth as I massage the other one in my hand, enjoying the weight, taste, and feel of her in my mouth and hand. She moans and pushes my head towards her breasts. I switch my mouth to the other breast, licking and sucking her nipple as I massage the breast I just finished devouring. She has the most amazing tits I have ever seen.
I slide my hands down from her breast to her stomach, making my way to her exposed pussy. Running my finger through her seam, I feel how wet she is.
“You are so wet for me, Princess. It seems you did miss me quite a bit.” I say as I put my finger, with her juices on it, in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the finger to savor her delicious taste on my taste buds. I can’t help it when I groan in approval.
“You taste so perfect. I could eat you every day for every meal for the rest of my life and still not have enough of you.” I look at her glistening pussy inviting me in to finish my meal.
I stand up, grab the hair tie off my wrist, and pull my hair up into a messy bun. Rachel looks at me with hunger as she watches my every move. I wink at her, spread her legs open again, and lean in, licking her from ass to clit. I am a girl who loves to eat ass, so any chance I get, I will show her ass as much attention as she will let me.
I start to lick and suck on her clit, as her hands start pulling at my hair as best as she can with it pulled back.
“Olivia! Yes. Please. Don’t. Don’t stop.” She is stuttering over her words as she starts to grind on my face in search of friction; she knows that only I can give her at this moment. I am currently embracing the power of being the only one who can make her cum right now.
I reach between her legs and slide my middle finger into her wet pussy, moving my finger in and out; she starts moving her hips to match the rhythm of my finger fucking her. I add a second finger, and she arches her back with a loud moan escaping her mouth. I curl my fingers to hit her G-spot, and she bucks her hips up and screams.
“OLIVVVIIIIAAAA.” When she finished screaming my name, I heard my phone ring.
Usually, I would ignore it, but it's the specific ringtone I have for work calls, and if I get a work call on a Saturday morning, something must be going on.
I look up at Rachel and kiss her forehead.
“I am so sorry. I have to take this. They wouldn't call if it weren't important. We will finish what we started as soon as I get off the phone. Plus, I think your bacon is burnt.” I laugh and nod towards the bacon, which is now entirely black.
Rachel lets out a frustrated groan –not that I blame her, I would be fucking pissed– then hops off the counter to fix the bacon.
I picked up my phone and saw my investigation unit partner calling me.
“Hey, Jones, What’s up?” I answer, “Hey, O’Connor, we got a hit on the Los Comos case. Can you come in?” Well fuck that’s not what I expected to hear this morning.
“Yeah, give me 30 minutes, and I’ll be there.”
“Cool, Thanks. See you soon, " he replies. Then I hang up the phone and look at Rachel, who looks sad.
“I'm sorry, princess. I have to go to the office. We got a lead on the case I am in charge of.” I kiss her quickly and head upstairs to grab a pair of sweatpants from Alex’s dresser.
Since I can’t fit Alex’s shoes and have no others here, I put on my heels from last night. I lean down to kiss a sleeping Alex on the head when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me on top of him.
“Where do you think you are going, beautiful?” Alex says in his husky, sleepy voice. It is sexy as fuck. If I had it my way, I would stay here forever.
A giggle escaped my lips when he put his face in the crook of my neck, and his stubble tickled me. “I got called into work. Got some information on a big case I am a part of.” He smiles at me, smacks my ass, and lets me get out of his grip.
“Go get them hot stuff! I’ll talk to you later.” He smacks my ass and rolls over and finding out that Rachel is not in bed.
“She is downstairs making breakfast,” I call back as I leave the room.
When I get downstairs, I kiss Rachel again, tell her I will see her later, and head out the door. On my drive to the office, I think about our great night and all the fears I overcame with two people I barely knew. It was mind-blowing in numerous ways.
When I arrive at the office, I rush into the locker room to change into my spare uniform, that I keep in my locker. I always keep a spare in case things get messy, but this situation also works. I take off Alex’s clothes and my heels and start to put on my pants when Jones runs into the female locker room like his ass is on fire.
“Dude! What the fuck! Get out! I am trying to get dressed!” I screamed at him.
He just stares at me like a teenager seeing boobs for the first time in his life. Then, he looks my body up and down before he realizes what he is doing.
“Ummmm, WOW!” That's all that came out of his mouth.
“GET OUT!” I scream again and point towards the door because, apparently, he doesn’t know how to listen the first time. If this is the start of my day, I am in for some deep shit.
I don’t know why Jones seeing me in my bra was such a big deal. I am usually confident in what I have to offer. But it felt wrong having someone else see me so vulnerable. But I have to work with this man, so I must shake off this feeling quickly.
After getting dressed, I head to my desk. I look at my whiteboard and see all the different hits we've received on the Los Comos case. Until today, every single lead has led to a dead end. Now, I am staring at my board, trying to piece together what Jones has found, since we are the two primary officers on the case.
“They have been getting shipments out of LA.” He said with a for-sure tone. I turned and looked at him as if he were stupid. We already knew that. What makes this information new?
“I had a suspicion they were. I gathered that they have multiple locations in LA and are working up the West Coast. We need to find out who they are working with to cut their roots and kill the core,” I say as I use a red marker to circle the docks in LA.
“My intel tells me a shipment is coming between 9 pm and 2 am tonight. Should we do a stakeout?” Jones asks me. I am still not used to being the one in charge. “Um, yeah. Let’s do a stakeout tonight. The sooner we get more intel, the better. They have been crawling underground for too long. It’s time to squish these cockroaches.”
Jones nods at me and returns to his desk to grab his things. We are both headed home to pack up for tonight.
“We are not sure how long we will be sitting there, so make sure you pack enough water and food. I doubt any restaurants will be open at that time.” I say over my shoulder as I pack up the stuff I need from my desk for tonight.
“Also! Jones! Don’t come into the locker room again without knocking.” I say to him in a stern mom’s voice. I’m not a mom, but it makes these fuckers in the office listen more.
“Yes, I am sorry about that. I didn’t realize you had come in. And.. I heard noises, so I… uh… was checking it out. It won’t happen again, I promise. " He stutters out in one breath. You can tell he is uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make him feel that way, but I don’t appreciate being walked in on while changing.
“Alright, thank you for your apology. Let’s grab the shit mobile, go home, grab stuff for tonight, and head out.” Jones nodded in understanding before turning around and leaving the office. The shit mobile is an ugly faded blue 1994 honda accord that is the company car for stakeouts, so we don’t stick out like a sore thumb.
I go to the lock box and grab the keys for the shit mobile, head out into the parking lot, and head for my house.
Once I have grabbed my to-go bag out of my closet- which is a duffle bag packed with extra underwear, a spare set of clothes, toiletries, water bottles, and a fuck ton of snacks- I head into the kitchen to grab more snacks for my bag, because I get hungry while sitting there waiting for someone to do something that will allow me to spring into action. I hate doing stakeouts; I sit in the car and do nothing for hours, and usually, there is awkward silence. I hope tonight’s lead will help us make further progress with Los Comos. I am tired of chasing these fuckers in circles.
I head out of the house with my bag slung over my shoulder and head to the shit mobile. I get in the car, it starts up, and I shift into gear. I head to Jones’ house to pick him up, and then we are off—a two-hour drive to the Los Angeles cargo port.
The drive was tolerable; Jones played the music, and it was actually good. Most of the time, rock music was playing. If any song I knew came on, I was dancing and singing at the top of my lungs, with Jones joining me in the Shit Mobile Concert. It was fun to goof around, even if we were on a stakeout and looking to destroy the biggest cartel in the Southwest.
I never realized how much fun Jones and I could have; usually, when we're in the office, he's shy and to himself, unless he runs into the girls’ locker room, apparently.
We pull up to the dock, and it’s eerily quiet, like in movies where it's quiet, then the killer comes out and cuts everyone’s throats. Jones looks around. His gun is already in his lap, ready for any sign of trouble. But there is no one here. We parked where the workers parked to make it less obvious that a car was randomly on the dock, but to our surprise, there weren’t many cars out here tonight.
We walked to where the cargo ships were typically moored and unloaded, but still, there was no one around. We passed by a hut that could only fit one person. It was an office-like building with a sign on the window listing what to expect today, and sure enough, it was an extremely small list, showing that they had received the last load by 9 am today. That's awfully convenient, knowing what is happening tonight. There's no way these guys weren’t paid a pretty penny to let the Cartel take over the dock tonight and keep their mouths shut. Who else would pay someone off like that besides Los Como? The question is, what cargo are they getting today? Humans? Drugs? Guns? Who knows? It could be all three, for all we know. We know they dip their toes into every underground dealing imaginable.
“Hey, let’s go back to the car and get strapped up. Then, we can watch until we see any flicker of life and head back out. I am not sure what time everything is happening, but I have a gut feeling that things will happen tonight after all we saw on the dock.” I whisper as I walk away. Jones just follows me like a lost puppy dog, not saying a word and trying to keep up with my pace, even though I am shorter than him.
“Hey, O’Connor?” He sounds nervous as shit right now. I just turn and lift an eyebrow at him. “What if we find women and children in the cargo containers?” He seems so nervous. Not that I blame him. I am anxious, also. This shit sucks. Trafficking is a huge deal, and I hate it with every fiber of my being. If it were just drugs and Guns, I wouldn’t be nearly as mad. They don’t only sell women and children, but men, also. I have read through every file given to me at least a dozen times each. I wanted to know everything about the 103 they currently have in their custody.
“If humans are in those containers, we will do what we can to rescue them. We will always do what we can.” He nods in agreement.
We are putting on bulletproof vests, getting every holster we can fit on our bodies, and strapping guns everywhere. I also have knives hidden up my sleeves and in my boots. I prefer knives as my weapon of choice, but the PD doesn’t agree to allow me just knives. So, I make sure to follow protocol and also add my favorites around it like an accessory.
As we strap on the last of our weapons and put on our jackets to conceal them, we see three sets of headlights approaching the dock from the left. We sit and watch the three blacked-out SUVs drive down the pier like they own the place.
Once they parked, multiple men in suits stepped out and scanned the area. I am assuming those are bodyguards. I see they have a gun on their hip, but there is no telling how many they have strapped under their suit jackets. After one guy looks over his shoulder and says, "All clear.”
A tall, older, Hispanic-looking man with broad shoulders, salt and pepper hair, and a short, well-trimmed salt and pepper beard, also wearing a tailored suit, gets out of the SUV. Lopez García. He looks oddly familiar, but I shake off the feeling because I have been researching this man for a while now. There is no way I wouldn’t feel a sense of familiarity with a man whose face I have seen in case files a million times.
He is speaking to all the other men in suits. I can’t hear what he's saying, but his hands are moving quickly, and he points to the dock where a cargo ship is pulling in, then back to the SUVs. It looks like he is giving instructions for tonight. After he stops talking, five huge, black Ford Transits pull up beside the SUVs. There are probably fifteen people on the dock now in suits. I am not sure who the guards are and who the employees are, but overall, it doesn’t matter to me because they all deserve to rot in hell.
When the last Ford Transit parks, four men wearing black coveralls and black baseball caps exit each van. They walk up to Lopez García and say something quickly, then turn around and open the backs of the vans, pulling out a couple of duffel bags. They lay down a plastic tarp on the ground and start securing it to the ground with a staple gun.
“That must be where they transfer humans, the tarp for bodily fluids,” Jones whispers in my ear. The thought sends a chill down my spine. The thought of human trafficking makes me queasy.
After about twenty minutes of watching, a huge cargo ship with hundreds of crates finally pulls up to the dock. The coverall-clad crew members grab the line and start mooring the cargo ship. Once everything is secure, Lopez García walks up to the ship's captain and begins to speak. We are trying to be as patient as we can. We have the windows of the Shit Mobile cracked, so we can hear anything that is audible. A crane moves and picks up a large wooden cargo box. I thought they no longer used wooden cargo boxes. As the crane sets the box onto the dock, two more men in coveralls grab pry bars and open the box. One of the men in the suits yells, “Get in line! Heads down! Shut the fuck up!” You hear crying through the commotion.
A line of boys and girls between 3 and 17 walk out of this enormous cargo box. My heart drops. There have to be at least one hundred kids right there. None of them are the faces I memorized from the files. These are all new children who have been captured and brought here. There are all races lined up here. I see an older girl, probably around 15, comforting a smaller boy around 4. She kneels down in front of him and grabs his face with both hands, using her thumbs to wipe away his tears. She then wraps her arms around him and gives him a big hug.
One of the men in suits grabs the girl by her hair and rips her up, causing the little boy to fall on his butt. She holds her scalp, trying to keep her hair on her head.
“You stupid little girl! I said Stay in line and shut up! Do you not know what that means?” He yells in her face and jerks her head with her hair. I don't know if she replies; all I can hear are screams from the other kids. He then pulls her out of the line of kids and throws her onto the dock. She hits the ground hard, causing her head to bounce off the concrete. She doesn’t move after that. One of the coverall guys comes over, picks her up, and puts her in one of the vans.
After they get the girl into the van, the next line comes out of the cargo containers. This line includes adults, men, and women of all ages and races. They line up, looking completely out of it, as if they are drugged with something; it is logical to get this many adults to comply.
“Hey, Jones?” I say without looking away from the people lined up. “We need to come up with a better plan. We can’t risk these people getting caught in the crossfire.” He nods in agreement. We need to come up with a better plan now.
We are hiding behind the closest metal cargo container from the chaos. I am twisting my silencer onto my 9mm and getting into position. I check my surroundings to make sure no one is around me as I aim at the suit closest to us. One squeeze of the trigger, and the bullet goes through his head. The suit drops with a thud, and I take aim at the next suit. Jones is behind the container next to mine, also shooting. The suits are dropping like flies; no one has noticed so far because they are too worried about their cargo. We want to take out as many suits as possible before notifying Lopez García. It will make saving these people easier if there are less people on our asses.
We shoot about eight suits before Lopez García notices some of his guys are missing.
“Someone is here! Spread out and find them!”
Jones and I turn toward the back of the pier and run as quietly as possible to the farthest back container. When I hear a shot ring out, I cover my head for any debris to come flying at me.
“Jones! We have to pick up the pace!” I yell over my shoulder. I hear his boots behind me as we run towards the back of the dock.
Five more shots ring out; all I can do is keep running.
Another shot rings out, and I hear a loud thud on the ground. I take a split second to turn my head and see Jones on the ground, blood coming out of his head. I trip when I turn back around. When I finally regain my balance, I continue to run as fast as my legs will take me.
FUCK!
Now, I am on my own. I can hear the pounding of steps behind me. My heart races as I swerve around cargo crates, trying to dodge the suits. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. I am just running. If I don't, I will be shot next, and no one will save those poor people. That is the thought that keeps me going. Keeps me running.
As I round the next corner, I run straight into a broad chest in a black suit. The impact of his chest makes me fall backward.
FUCK!
He wraps his big ass arms around me, and I go to fight him off. Unfortunately, he easily has a hundred pounds on me and is at least a foot taller, if not more. I am kicking, scratching, biting, and wiggling, doing anything I can to get out of this man's grip. I have to keep running.
He puts his hands up to his ears and talks into a microphone I didn’t know was there.
“I caught the redhead,” he said in a growly voice.
Fuck what am I going to do now? He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I bang on his back and try to bite him, since that's all I can seem to do because he has a death grip on my legs. I guess this is how Fiona felt when Shrek picked her up. The only difference is that she wasn’t being hauled off to her death.
We walk to the dock where everyone else is. He sets me down and grabs my wrists. I blink a few times to adjust to being back right side up, and I look straight into the brown eyes of the Drug Lord himself.
“Cuff her and put her in the SUV. Don’t kill her!” He barks his orders before turning around and paying attention to his shipment again.
Before I was put into the SUV, I saw at least fifteen wooden cargo crates containing people of all ages, races, and genders. I also took a quick glance at the people standing in line, being evaluated by suits. All of them were taken from their homes, and they need me, and I can’t do shit because my dumb ass got caught.
My arms are handcuffed behind me, and I am placed inside the second row of the blacked-out SUV. A burlap sack is placed over my head; it is itchy and smells terrible. I can barely breathe through the material, which causes me to panic. I have to remember to calm myself down, or else I will have an anxiety attack and pass out. I need to be as focused as possible. I feel a pinch in my arm, then a burning sensation of something being put into my arm. Then, the world goes black.