eleven
Noah
After her tender ministrations, I return the favor, pouring dark chocolate over her tits and licking until she come. Then we fuck hard, fast, and desperate for each other. Later, we shower—together—and after changing the sheets, recline together holding hands, and talk through the night.
I don’t consider myself into the BDSM lifestyle but explaining my desire for control as something I really like is far easier than how I’d worked it out in my mind. Beryl is curious and interested in exploring more with me. The warmth of her acceptance is more than I deserve and I make a silent vow to make every experience ultimately for her.
Sunday afternoon we pick up Devin early and take a picnic to the beach. The boy shows off his flipping and handstand skills in the sand, making sure to explain how to accomplish each move to me. It’s going to take me awhile to be able to match the different names to each twist or flip but I’m determined to make the effort.
Four days have passed since I’ve seen Beryl. I fucking miss seeing her, touching her. Loving her. We’ve texted, but even phone time has been limited as the gym prepares for hosting a regional competition this weekend. Beryl is busy with both administrative and assistant coaching duties. Most of the competition is for older gymnasts.
On his birthday Devin moved into the Future Stars program. He hasn’t been at the level long enough to compete yet but will participate in a skills demonstration Sunday afternoon. Tegan has generously volunteered to oversee the shop alone so I can attend.
Tegan hired three part-time employees. One has already started and shows an interest in learning how to make some of our non-chocolate sweets. Tegan is over the moon at the possibility. The other two start next week. The extra help will allow us to expand hours as the tourist season heats up, as well as have more time for ourselves.
The early success of Choco-Love has kept our bank account in the black and Tegan is already searching the internet for new equipment and ideas.
Life is good and our chocolate even better. Whether the taste is improved because I’m not so stressed, or because my love for Beryl really is that ‘secret ingredient’, doesn’t matter. I’ve never felt so… I search for the feeling and the closest I can come is contentment. I am content.
The polar opposite of the confusion of my younger self.
While Beryl is working I keep busy by creating a surplus of our most popular bonbons. My storage unit of molded ‘boards’ for our choc-cuterie displays is full. I’ve even completed some of the hated paperwork Tegan insists I do.
I’m attempting to figure how much to increase our order of sugar and other supplies when my phone rings. The hope it’s Beryl dies when I glance at the caller ID.
“Winston, surprised to hear from you.”
“Bit of a problem at the harbor that I can’t handle. You need to come as soon as possible.”
Winston is the customs’ broker who manages the documentation and arrival of our cacao beans from South America. We’ve never had an issue before. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t say much. The ship was rerouted to one of the less savory docks. Rumor has it the DEA is interested. I’ve gotten your shipment off the ship and into temporary storage. They brought in dogs and determined the beans are clean. But, if the container isn’t emptied or moved in the next few hours it could well come under DEA jurisdiction. Customs won’t release it to me despite my legal documentation. They’ll only allow you to receive the shipment.”
Fuck. I blow out a harsh breath.
Winston offers a wry chuckle. “You’ve been lucky and haven’t had to deal with this before. Ships from Ecuador are coming under heavier scrutiny with the unrest and drug traffic in the area. Our government isn’t usually so lenient with unaffected cargo. You need to get here before some desk jockey changes their mind and decides to confiscate your shipment as well.”
“Can I get the whole shipment into an SUV?” If I can’t, I’ll need to rent a truck. That would look even more suspicious.
“Might have to stack a few bags in the front seat, so don’t bring a passenger.”
“Fine. It’ll take me an hour, maybe a little more to get there.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Then I remember Tegan is away from the store for part of the afternoon. I’ll have to leave our new person here alone. I exit the office and wait until Brooke finishes with a customer. “I need to leave on a business errand. Will you be okay alone until Tegan gets back?”
She glances at the clock. “That’s less than an hour. Should be no problem, Mr. Drake.”
I hover in the doorway. She grins at me. “Get going. I’ll be fine. And I’ve got Tegan’s number just in case. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, Brooke.” Returning to the office I open the app to text Tegan. My phone goes black. Shit. I forgot to charge it again. Doing it the old fashioned way, I scrawl my message across a piece of note paper. As I exit the rear door I call out to Brooke. “I left a note for Tegan on the desk.”
“I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Before I leave town, I make sure the car phone charger is working. We can’t afford to lose this shipment of cacao. Anxiety makes me heavy footed but the traffic is erratic bumper to bumper so using cruise control isn’t possible. It’s not a pleasant drive. My hands cramp around the steering wheel.
At the dock Winston exits his vehicle and meets me at the storage shed door. With a nod he opens the door and follows me in. Ten minutes later, my identity is approved and Winston has the appropriate documents in his folio. I back my SUV close to the loading dock and he helps move the twenty-five pound burlap bags to the edge of the platform.
“Sorry I can’t help you load up,” he says. “My wife will shoot me if I’m late for dinner with her folks.”
Clapping him on the shoulder, I grin. “Get going. It won’t take long for me to finish up.”
Less than ten minutes later there were only three bags left. Winston had been accurate in his appraisal, those three had to go in the front. I grab my phone from the charger, planning to text Tegan I’m on the way home.
“What the fuck you doin’ with our shit?”
Apprehension settles over me, tightening my shoulders. Not good. I look up from the phone but its gotten late enough there’s deep shadows hiding the man. “You must be mistaken. This cargo is mine.”
“Came off that ship back there,” a second rough voice says. “Means this shit is ours.”
Swiping out of the messaging app, I give the screen a quick glance to pull up the phone. I’m not going to argue but I am going to call 9-1-1.
My phone is slapped from my hand and three hulking bodies surround me. I hold up my empty hands. “Listen guys. These bags are filled with cacao beans. For making chocolate. Nothing else.”
“Not what the boss told us.”
Boss. Fuck. The rumors were right. There probably are drugs on that ship. And these idiots believe I’m stealing from them. I start slowly backing away. This is one time I wish I were more athletic. Pulling candy and lifting bags of beans doesn’t make fighting muscles. All I can do is cut my losses. “Go ahead and take them then. I’m not arguing.”
“And you ain’t tellin’ no one ‘bout us either.” The smaller of the three, the leader, brought the heel of his work boot down on my phone, smashing the glass. Laughing, he used his foot to pulverize the glass and components. Shit.
I try to watch the men and still look around for any agents or officers scouting the area.
The leader laughs again, a high pitched giggle telling me he’s probably been sampling the goods. “Ain’t nobody ‘round. We already took care of that.”
The men advanced. One jabbed toward my stomach. I lurched away. A heavy fist lands between my shoulder blades sending me stumbling forward to my knees. Before I can crawl away, sharp pain pierces my skull and I collapse into darkness.
* * *
Dim lights burnthrough my closed eyelids. Soft whooshing, occasional clicks, the rumble of distant conversation confuse me. Where am I? When I try to move my arm sharp pain freezes my tentative movement. I don’t understand.
Footsteps come closer and a soft touch feather’s over the back of my hand. I jerk and moan from the new pain. “Good morning, Mr…?”
The woman’s gentle voice isn’t familiar and I open my eyes to her concerned smile. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Tidelands Memorial Hospital. I’m Doctor Cam. Can you tell me your name?”
Of course I can. “I’m…” My tongue stalls. I know who I am. Why can’t I find my name? A band of pain tightens around my chest and I struggle to control my panicked breathing. “I don’t know,” I finally whisper.
“That can happen when you’ve experienced trauma like you have. Sometime late yesterday, you experienced a beating.”
I touch the tight skin on my jaw, then the tender spot near my temple. “Hurts.”
“You have a concussion. Workers on the dock found you this morning covered by some loose branches. You had no ID and the police found nothing nearby to help identify you.”
“My arm?”
“I’m afraid it’s broken in two places. Once the swelling subsides, you’ll need surgery.”
“What else?” Parts of my body scream with pain, others I can’t feel. Before the pounding in my brain becomes too loud, I need to know.
The doctor shakes her head. “Rest and we’ll talk later.”
“No,” I force through dry lips. “What else? I need to know.”
She studies me for a moment and her face blurs. I blink and even that hurts. Making a decision, she finally says, “No other broken bones. Scans for internal injuries were negative but we’re keeping a close watch on that. You are covered with cuts and contusions. Whoever attacked you wanted you dead.”
“Feels like I am.”
“I’ll check with your nurse to see if you’re due for pain meds. Rest should help you regain your memories. Unfortunately, before you’re ready, the police will want to ask some questions.”
“Too many questions.” My eyes close and this pain filled reality slips away. “Not enough answers.”