John Avery - Black Cobra

Suddenly Aaron surfaced, splashing her playfully, laughing at his childish prank.

She splashed him back hard. ” Don’t do that! ” she said. “ You scared me. ” She didn’t mention that her younger brother, her only sibling, had drowned in a canal at the age of eight, and that she had been the one that found him. She gave Aaron a shove that nearly knocked him over. Then she ran giggling out of the water and up onto the grass where she flopped onto her stomach on the picnic blanket.

Aaron walked up the beach, wiping the excess water from his chest and arms, and sat down next to her. Her cute bottom was clearly one of her best features.

The sun was very low now, and the air was cooling. Goosebumps were forming on Ekatarina’s skin. Aaron reached for a towel and laid it over her, and then he grabbed one for himself and dried his hair with a quick buff.

He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out an apple. “I appreciate you putting this nice picnic together, Ekatarina.”

“You’re very welcome.” She sat up and pulled the towel around her, covering her body entirely. Then she turned her head slightly to the side and smiled at him in a way that made his heart leap. “You know, Aaron… in Russia it is customary for lovers to refer to each other by an affectionate name.”

Aaron paused, confused. Did I hear her right? Did she say ‘lovers’? Please tell me she said ‘lovers’.

“Mine’s Katya,” she said. “And you already have yours.”

Before Aaron could say anything, Katya pushed him gently down onto the blanket. She dropped her towel and reached behind her back and unclasped her wet bra and tossed it over her shoulder. Then she lay over him with her breasts on his chest and pressed her warm, moist lips firmly against his.

At first her directness embarrassed him, but he let himself go, bathing in her intoxicating sexuality, responding passionately to her open-mouthed kisses as if he knew he would die tomorrow. He wanted to be in this moment forever — just the two of them — spinning through space and time, safe in their dream, safe from a world gone mad. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Please, God, he prayed. Let this be my moment. Let this be my life. Let this be my eternity .

Her goosebumps had gone now, and her skin was warm to the touch, and softer than he could ever imagine. He kissed her neck and shoulders then tore away what little remained of her clothing and slowly, intently, explored every inch of her nakedness. The goosebumps returned as Aaron’s hands and mouth caressed Katya’s lively, willing body like a thousand silk handkerchiefs, intensifying her already fiercely burning desire.

“I want you to make love to me,” she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

He looked into her eyes, and then kissed her passionately on the lips, draining the last of her remaining strength.

“You will be my first,” she said with a slight nervousness in her voice.

Aaron touched a finger to her lips. “You are mine as well,” he said quietly. “You can trust me, Katya. I will honor you.” He kissed her lips again, gently this time. She closed her eyes as in a dream.

Then, as the sun slowly settled into the Pacific, he patiently and carefully made himself one with her.

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

James Harness and Larry Holt took a taxi from southern Baja’s Aeródromo Internacional into downtown Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. It was hot outside. Really hot. After questioning several locals, the two ended up at the infamous Cabo Wabo Cantina.

The nightclub was huge, with a stage and a set of drums toward the back, and wild, festive lighting and decorations covering every inch of the space. However, considering it wasn’t even 6:00 p.m. yet, the men weren’t surprised to see that it was deserted.

As they approached the bar, Harness pointed out a wall full of Van Halen memorabilia, and Holt was first to notice the vast collection of ladies underwear hanging above their heads.

It was hotter in the Cantina than it was outside, and Officer Holt looked at Harness expectantly. Harness looked back at him with a look that said, What the hell do you want?

“Are you gonna buy your partner a drink or do I have to buy it myself?” Holt said. “And don’t feed me any of your bullshit about us being on duty. If I can’t have a drink in fucking Cabo San… Wabo, where the hell can I drink?”

Harness gave him a disgusted look. ”I’m a little busy at the moment,” he said, jerking his head toward the bartender to remind Holt that they were there to gather information, not to get drunk. “And if we were on duty, I’d have your badge for insubordination and abusive language.”

“Fuck you,” Holt said.

Harness turned to the bartender. “Two shots of your best tequila and two beer backs, please.”

“I’d buy my own damn drink if you’d pay me once in a while,” Holt mumbled.

“Whatever makes the big baby happy,” Harness said.

“Kiss my big black ass,” Holt said.

They watched with dry throats as the bartender poured the shots and delivered their order to the bar.

Holt threw back his shot and chased it with his entire beer. He hoped that everything he’d heard about the potency of Cabo Wabo’s tequila was true, since it was unlikely he could pry another dollar out of Harness’s wallet.

“You’re not supposed to chug the beer, Holt,” Harness said. “It’s for sipping.”

“Where’d you come up with that? ” Holt said. “And why don’t you just shut up about it?”

Harness downed his shot as well, along with a sip of beer, and then he introduced himself and showed the bartender Jason’s picture, offering him the usual $50 cash incentive.

“He looks a lot different out of uniform,” the bartender said, stuffing the $50 in his tip jar. “But yeah, I saw him. About three days ago. He was with a hot redhead and some young guy that looked like a surfer or something. They had dinner and drinks… lots of drinks.”

“Three days ago, did you say?”

“Yeah, Tuesday night, I think,” the bartender said. “I heard them say something about San Diego.”

“Did they say anything else?” Harness asked.

“I don’t know… They were all pretty hammered by then.”

Harness shoved another $50 across the bar.

The bartender scooped up the bill and glanced around the empty club, and then he leaned toward Harness, as if he were going to divulge a national secret. Holt leaned in as well.

“Here’s where it started getting really weird,” the bartender said in a near whisper. “The guy you’re looking for? The guy in the picture? He started going off about a plot to assassinate some high-level official in the United States government.”

“What?” Harness said. “He had to be bullshitting.”

“How the hell should I know?” the bartender said. “But he was talking about torpedoing the son-of-a-bitch.”

“Yeah, right,” Holt said. “Where’s the guy gonna get a torpedo? Fucking Walmart?”

“He mentioned an old Russian submarine that’s part of some museum in San Diego,” the bartender said.

“ Cobra ,” Harness said to Holt. “She’s moored at the MMSD. But she barely floats .” But he knew better than to underestimate his adversary’s resourcefulness.

“Just telling you what I heard,” the bartender said.

“His companions,” Harness said. “Were they in on it?”

“It was hard to tell… they were pretty fucked up. But I doubt it. It was a one-sided conversation at that point, and the guy didn’t seem to care if they were listening or not.”