Embargo (Hot Off The Press) Book 2 (5 page)

I overpay for a little caffeine injection. As I down this venti mocha latte, I map out the five Motel 6 locations in Austin. Fortunately, all four locations are all right along I-35, well that makes my job a little easier. After I finish half of my drink, I hop the road and arrive at the first Motel 6 location. I cruise the parking lot looking for my editors blue Volvo c70 coupe. There is no sign of such a vehicle. I head down the interstate and check out the second Motel 6 location. Nothing here. This is not looking good. I arrive at the third location and spend a good fifteen minutes checking out the parking lot. No luck. I’m starting to have this sinking feeling that Harold is crossing the border into Mexico right now.

The next location is across the river. I find the four Motel 6 location. As soon as I arrive into the parking lot, I see Harold’s Volvo sitting right there in front of a motel room on the first level. This couldn’t be any better! I park next to the Volvo and finish my latte. Then I immediately step out of the SUV and walk up to the door. I put my ear up next to the door to listen for a TV or any sign of Harold. Then I knock. “Harold. It’s Julie. Are you there?” I call out. No answer. I knock again. Still no answer. “Come on, Harold. Everything is cool. I’m here all alone. Please open the door. We need to talk,” I bark. Still nothing. I mentally picture Harold locking himself inside of the hotel room bathroom. Well, I am content to stay right out here and wait for my editor to open the door. He is going to have to come out sometime.

I knock on the door again. “Harold! Come on!” I yell as I pound on the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harold standing across the parking lot carrying a plastic bag of beer and snacks. His face turns white. He drops the bag and begins to run away. “Harold! Wait!” I call out, chasing after my editor. The poor pudgy guy sprints away from the Motel 6, but I am right on his tail. Since I am younger and in better shape, it’s not that hard to catch up to Harold. I grab him, by the back of his pants and pull him to the ground.

“Please, please, don’t let him kill me!” Harold calls out as we wrestle around, on the grass, next to the Interstate.

“Harold listen. Everything is fine. Mr. Rex doesn’t want to hurt you.”


“Yes he will!” Harold protests as he sits up on the grass, too out of shape and exhausted to run. He clutches his chest. The man looks like he is one microwave burrito away from a heart attack.

“Look, if Mr. Rex wanted to kill anyone, it would be me. I was the one who was working undercover at his company,” I rationalize.

That seems to be enough to calm my editor down a bit. He looks me up and down. “How did Mr. Rex find out?” he asks.

“Well, Mr. Rex and I got intimate and the head of security demanded that I go through an advanced screening system that included fingerprinting. I knew I would be caught sooner rather than later, so I confessed everything to Mr. Rex.”

“He must have been pissed,” Harold says as he gets on his feet. We begin to walk back to Motel 6.

“He wasn’t happy. But I think he appreciated the fact that I came clean before he found out my charade from one of his own people.”

Harold walks up to the mess of groceries he dropped to the ground. He tries to salvage what he can from his six-pack of Bud, grab bag of candy bars and a questionable looking gas station hot dog. “After I pulled that gun on Mr. Rex, I really felt that he would have me killed.”

“All is forgiven,” I tell Harold flatly.

“That comes from Mr. Rex himself?”

“Yes. He even made a few phone calls to the Chief of Police and the District Attorney to ensure the incident at Denny’s doesn’t get pursued. We want you to come back.”

“Why?” Harold asks as we walk back into the hotel room.

“Mr. Rex wants to make sure that his name doesn’t get into the news. Now if you pull this little disappearing act. Eventually, people will begin to put two and two together and link your disappearance to Mr. Rex. He doesn’t need that kind of publicity. He just wants everything to get back to normal. And getting back to normal means getting you back to your job at the magazine,” I explain as I look at the mess of empty beer cans lined up on the nightstand next to the bed.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do once I got to Mexico,” Harold admits as looks around the mess in his room. “I can’t even speak Spanish.”

“You can have the beers later. Why don’t you get a soda and let’s hit the road,” I suggest.

“Where are we going?”

“Mr. Rex wants to make things up with you,” I respond. I can tell that Harold still has a little bit of trepidation in his body. I try my best to make him comfortable.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

“I trust you, Julie,” Harold tells me.

“Then you have to believe that no harm whatsoever will come to you.”

Harold nods his head.

I get up from the bed and pick up the phone. I place a call to my boss.

“Mr. Rex. I found Harold. He has agreed to come back.”

“Excellent work, Julie. Have him come to my estate this evening.”

“Really?”



“Yes, I going to give him the red carpet treatment.”

“Excellent, Mr. Rex.”

I hang up and look at my haggard editor, who appears to not have gotten a bit of sleep. “How would you like to see Mr. Rex’s estate?”



“Really?” Harold responds.

“It’s a sight to behold.”

The editor looks at himself. “I am a mess.”



“Don’t worry about it,” I say as I gather up Harold’s stuff. We walk over to the front desk and check-out. My editor still seems a little suspicious of me. I tell him to just relax and everything will be fine. Harold gets into his Volvo. We head back to Dallas.

***

8:00 p.m. After we got back to Dallas, I followed Harold back to his condo. He took a much needed nap and changed his clothes. Then he got into my SUV. Harold stills seems a little jittery so I try my best to assure him that the T. Rex is not going to bite.

I check-in with Mr. Rex and tell him that we will be at the estate in less than an hour.

“So what’s the scariest thing about Trent Rex?” Harold asks me.

“He’s not scary, Harold.”

“There are rumors that he has an underground doomsday bunker.”

“Well, that is true.”

“How can you tell me this guy is not dangerous? Every crazy guy I know has a doomsday bunker.”

“Mr. Rex has lots of enemies,” I respond. “And trust me, Harold, you are not one of them.”

We arrive at the estate. Harold’s jaw drops as he looks up at the imposing grand Chateau style mansion. Even by Texas standards, this home is enormous. “He has the biggest house in the state!” Harold gasps.

“Tell me about it,” I say as I pull up to the grand front entrance of the home.

Much to my surprise, Mr. Rex himself appears at the front door. My boss is wearing a rather casual looking sweater and slacks. This is the most laid back version of the T. Rex I have ever seen. I can tell that my boss is making a conscious effort to appear as disarming as possible.

Harold looks scared to open the passenger’s side door to the SUV. I run out of the vehicle and open the door for Harold. My editor ever so slowly emerges from the vehicle. As Mr. Rex approaches Harold, the editor appears to recoil in fear.

“Good evening, Harold. I’m glad you can make it to my home,” Mr. Rex announces as he shakes the editor’s hand. As my boss escorts the nervous editor into the home, he pulls out a cigar, “I understand you like a fine cigars. I myself am a fan of the finest Cuban contraband.”

Harold looks at the cigar’s label. I watch the editor’s eyebrows arch and eyes open wide. “Bolivar Inmensas. I’ve never even seen one of these in person.”

“I’m not going to let a little thing like an embargo deprive me from a fine smoke. I can give you a few boxes from my own collection,” Mr. Rex offers.

All of a sudden, Harold appears to be a lot more relaxed. Mr. Rex even offers to light up the cigar for the editor. Within a minute, Harold is puffing on the Cuban smoke with a relaxed and satisfied look on his face.

We walk around the house as the two men enjoy their Cuban cigars. I myself can’t stand the smell but if this makes Harold happy, they could smoke whatever they want. We settle in Mr. Rex’s grand library where we are surrounded by shelves filled with four centuries of literature, reference books and map books. Mr. Rex and Harold get comfortable on plush leather recliners while I sit on a nearby sofa. I notice that Harold is sitting back and his shoulders are nice and rested; this is a good sign.

“Mr. Rex, allow me to formally apologize for trying to send an undercover reporter into your office,” Harold offers as he enjoys his Cuban cigar.

“I understand. As a journalist, you want to do whatever you can to get a story. But I value my privacy. I would prefer not to have the public track my every move.”

“Understood,” Harold obliges as he looks over at me. “So I guess I am going to lose Julie.”

Mr. Rex looks over at me and responds with, “She is a rather resourceful person. I would like to keep her around my place for a while. However, I understand that I am stealing one of your best people so I would like to offer you something in return for your young reporter,” Mr. Rex states as he picks up his phone. This intrigues Harold enough to make him sit at the end of his seat. My boss makes a call. I have no idea what Mr. Rex has planned.

“Send them in,” Mr. Rex speaks into the phone. Harold and I look at each other. My boss puts his phone down, sits back and enjoys his cigar. A few seconds later, the doors of the library open and four of the most amazing looking Asian women walk into the grand room.


“So I heard you like Asian girls,” Mr. Rex mentions to Harold. The editor can’t even speak. And let me tell you this, he has completely forgotten about that Cuban cigar. Harold looks at these four Asian women as though they are apparitions. The girls are stunning. They are dressed in slinky skirts with long legs and perfect bodies. The tallest of the four has some of the best natural tits I have ever seen on a woman. The Asian babes walk over to Harold who now has a very visible hard-on.

One of the girls, the more petite of the four, sits on Harold’s lap and puts her right arm around him. The editor’s face is now almost completely red as a beet.

“I didn’t know if you were into Japanese, Chinese, Korean or Vietnamese babes so I got you a little bit of everything. Sort of a buffet of babes. The girls can escort you to my guest bungalow, across the lawn, where you all can get to know each other better,” Mr. Rex offers.

“Thank you, Mr. Rex,” Harold blurts out as the petite Asian babe plays with the editor’s hair.

Harold gets up from the chair. The girls are not shy about putting their hands on the lucky schlub. The four girls kiss his neck and run their little hands around his chest and back. Harold’s bulge looks like it is ready to explode out of his pants. Poor guy. He may not even make to the bungalow!

“There goes the luckiest guy in Dallas,” I joke to Mr. Rex.

“No. There goes the second luckiest guy in Dallas,” my boss disputes. I look at him oddly. He returns my odd look with a wolfish smile. Now I know what he is talking about. Before I know it, Mr. Rex grabs me and pushes my body onto the sofa. He pushes up my shirt and pulls off my bra. My boss begins to run those nice big hands of his all over my body. My flesh quivers. I feel him kiss my stomach. He runs his tongue up towards my breasts. Wow. I just love the way this man sucks on my tits. He knows how to use his mouth, his lips and his tongue in all the right places. I quickly remove my shirt and enjoy the pleasure of my boss’s insatiable sexual appetite.

“Your ability to perfectly execute my orders just makes me so horny,” Mr. Rex declares as he begins to remove his clothes.

“I aim to please, Mr. Rex,” I respond as I remove my skirt and thong. We can’t get naked fast enough.