The next morning, while Felix and Jordan were deciding what to do for breakfast, I pulled my clothes on quickly. "Sorry guys, it’s not that I don’t want to debate where to get good eggs around here, but there is something I need to do."
"What’s that?” Jordan asked, still distractingly nubile and nude on the bed. "Don't tell me you are suddenly shy."
"He probably had a pre-arranged girl here that he has to break it off with," Felix quipped. "He sets those up in every town."
"I do not," I growled in frustration. "That only happened once, and I'd known her previously. And while it’s none of your business Felix, no that is not what it’s about. It’s private business of mine."
Felix shrugged, unconcerned. "Okay. When you come back, do you want to help me?"
“With what?"
"I need to learn French and Romani," Jordan said from the bed, "unless you plan on being my full-time walking translator for the foreseeable future."
"We can start with French," Felix said, "it’s more applicable to daily life."
I nodded and left them, Felix's eyes already glimmering with the idea of teaching Jordan French. Leaving the hotel, I wandered down the road toward the only real market in town, where I bought some fresh fruits and bottled drinks for later. Santa Rosalia was a mining town, with huge copper mines nearby, and as such, the water was even more polluted than most of Mexico. Even the ocean was not as clean as it could have been, but the city did try to do some things to not totally ruin the limited tourist trade.
After draining half a bottle of water, I made my way north along Highway 1, which was really the only main street in the town, to the city library, which for some reason was named after Mahatma Gandhi. Inside, the warm sun was cut down by cool shade, which in the winter months was a bit chilly, but I was certain was much appreciated by the town's bibliophiles in summer. It wasn't much of a library, but the stacks were enough for my purposes.
Another employee of our agent was waiting for me, wearing a slouched cowboy hat and looking over an old, cheap paperback Tom Clancy novel, the cover tattered and scuffed. "La Caza del Submarino Ruso," I said slowly, reading the cover. "Never a fan of that one myself."
"My employer was interested when you said you wanted to talk about another job already." The agent had very good English, which was an unexpected blessing after the terrible accent the man in California had. My ears for foreign language are not as good as Felix's. On the other hand, I can tolerate their deceptive talking and bullshit more than he can. "He wants to know why."
"Because I have personal goals that are not inclusive of those of my brother," I said simply. "To accomplish those goals, I need a target that can get me personally over a million dollars."
"That is quite a target," the agent said. "There aren’t many solo jobs out there than can pull that in. Jobs that aren’t already being looked into by others, that is.”
"Then find me a target beyond my current capabilities," I replied, my temper getting the best of me. I am not one for being doubted. “I’m far more than you think, if it wasn't for Felix getting most of the credit."
"I see," the man replied. "You know if this happens, my employer will want to know more about why specifically you are attempting such a dangerous challenge. If he’s to invest in such an operation, he will want to know his operative is not going to cut bait and run at the first hiccup."
"Tell him . . . tell him the Gypsies are due a new King soon," I said simply. "And I want to buy my queen anything she wants for her coronation."
The man in the cowboy hat looked at me with surprise, then nodded. "Okay, gitano. You want a job, my boss will be in contact. Where should he contact you?"
"He has a private e-mail he can contact me on already. If he forgot it, then I guess he isn't worth working with anyway. See you, amigo."
I left the library and headed back toward the hotel. I pondered my plans as I went. Was I really thinking about doing this? I knew what my mother wanted, and yes, it was unfair that due to a total of thirty-two minutes spread over two generations, I was forever denied my birthright. But was that really worth the action I was thinking of? And what about Jordan?
I got back to the hotel and stopped outside the door, hearing the sounds of Felix and Jordan making love. It was different than when she and I had sex in the forest, different even from the way we'd had the amazingly kinky and erotic sex the night before. I could hear it in Felix's moans, and the whispered sighs as he pleasured her. He was truly focused on Jordan and her happiness at that moment.
And in that moment, as Jordan cried out her orgasm softly, I knew another thing.
I hated my brother.
Chapter 15
Jordan - Book 2