Betrayal

By Will Decker

Book 3 in the George 'Mac' McClain Action/Adventure series. When Mac is tricked into taking on a case by an ex-lover that is trying to break into his line of work, he has no idea that it will take all of his wits and training just to survive. On the run from a Mexican drug cartel that has chased them into the rain forests of Oregon's southern coastal mountain range, Mac is caught between the infatuation of a young girl and the blossoming love of a beautiful woman. When Mac learns that he was duped by Eddy, his ex-lover, his anger is quickly replaced by fear when she is shot in the back and barely clinging to life. It is in these moments that he begins to undestand the meaning of love. Ex-Special Forces, Ex-Homicide Detective, Mac has only 2 vices, fine rum and finer women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Decker
• Release date: Feb 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458004536

Will Decker

Hello,There have been some dramatic changes going on in my life and because of them I am finding that I now have more available time. Yeah, that's a laugh. Now it seems like my days are even more hectic than they were before. Hence, I have decided instead of using the narrow sighted approach to marketing my books, I am going to use a much simpler approach. No longer will my books be available through Amazon markets, but instead, my plan is to make them all available through the Smashwords site as well as their affiliated markets for FREE. However, this will take time so if you have read any of my books and are looking to read more of them, bear with me, I promise you they are coming. I hope this works for my dedicated (few) readers. On a different topic, as you can see, most of my writing efforts have been serials.With that said, you will never find a Cliff Hanger amongst my works. All of the stories have beginnings and endings and can stand on their own. Their common thread might be the characters and in some cases, the planet, but all are Stand-Alone novels! I really despise Cliff Hangers with a passion. Can you tell?Thanks for taking the time to get to know me a little better, WillHope you have a great day.Sincerely, Will Decker

Book preview

Hey Mac, it’s for you! Sam, the bartender, yells over the rising din of the dreary, unkempt bar. Soon the place will be filled with college kids blowing off steam like every other Friday night.

Situated in the always dank, moldy woods of south-western Oregon, it isn’t surprising that the exterior appearance reminds one of a scene right out of the children’s tale ‘Hansel and Gretel’. Yet, despite the advent of electric lighting, the interior is even less inviting.

Notwithstanding its remote location and dreary atmosphere, Sammy’s Hangout, so named after Sam’s recent purchase of the business after the prior owner mysteriously up and left, is a busy place. Although the nearest population center from which to draw clientele is nothing more than a college campus thirty-five mile’s distant, Sam’s advertising and marketing skills have been working extremely well. Every weekend, the place is packed to the walls, drawing in not only the more adventuresome students and academia, but also the more timid bookworm types. So much so in fact, this once private and secluded little clearing in the woods was quickly becoming too busy for Mac’s liking.

As he sits pondering the current situation, a tumbler of West Indies rum in his right hand and an almost empty fifth of the same sitting neglected near his left, Sam yells again, the payphone handset held outstretched toward him almost in a menacing fashion. He should have had the phone number changed, Mac mumbles sourly under his breath, still undecided as to whether he is going to take the call or not.

But though he argues with himself over his next actions, in the back of his mind he knows the outcome is a foregone conclusion; he needs the work. Funds are going out a lot faster than they’re coming in and it’s time to stem the tide before his new benefactor figures out just what a bum he really is.

Begrudgingly, he waves his hand in defeat, indicating to Sam that he can quit his annoying tactics. Laying the handset on a small ledge next to the wall-mounted payphone, Sam hurriedly moves off to fill a waitresses order from the increasing crowds at the tables.

Taking his time, Mac draws a deep breath and pushes himself off the stool, momentarily surprised at the rubbery and uncooperative condition of his legs. Before he falls and makes a fool of himself, he reaches out and steadies himself with a shaky grasp on the bar rail. Self-consciously, he glances in the direction of a group of younger coed students. With relief, he notes that no one is taking notice of his inebriated condition. While all in the same breath, he is slightly disappointed that no one is paying any attention to him, either.

The feeling of aggravation annoys him even more when he considers the all too real possibility that the person on the other end of the line is probably one of his few remaining friends calling to invite him to their place for the upcoming holidays. Some people just have a hard time reconciling the fact that he likes his own company and is quite content being alone, even during the holidays.

Steady there, Big Fella, comes a softly spoken command through his equally irritated and inebriated senses.

Moving slowly to ward off any chance of dizziness or vertigo, he turns toward the voice and immediately recognizes the white-haired elderly gentleman approaching while still uncoiling a thick wool scarf from around his neck. To his deepening chagrin, it’s the meddling philosophy professor from the nearby college, Professor Uti. Secretly, Mac suspects the aging professor sees himself more as a psychiatrist or something along those lines. Ever since Sammy’s popularity grew among the college students, the professor has been occupying a stool next to Mac’s every Friday night until closing. At first, Mac was put off by his presence, even though the man was always polite in a humoring kind of way and even buying drinks on several occasions. And even tonight, though Mac had long since come to the realization that his image with regard to the coed students was never going to be flattering, he harbored a small spark of resentment with regard to the professor’s intimacy toward him. Mac couldn’t help but see the professor’s companionship as little more than an act of pity toward him. Whereas the professor probably sees himself as befriending the down trodden, societies hapless reject!

Mac’s attitude toward the annoying phone call suddenly changes to one of relief as he mumbles, Gotta go. Important client calling.

Finding his bearings, Mac surprises even himself with the sureness of his step as he works his way along the bar toward the payphone. Several girls glance his way and then just as quickly turn up their noses and look the other way.

It isn’t that Mac is a bad looking fellow. In fact, he is considered to be quite handsome, despite the slow decline of middle age and the harsh effects that his hard life is having on him. At six-foot-four, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip and a full mane of dark wavy hair accenting ruggedly chiseled features, he stands apart from most men. His physical strength and quickness of reflex can only be attributed to genetics however, since he can’t remember the last time he did something in the way of taking care of himself short of bathing and shaving and that not nearly often enough.

Much to his chagrin, as well as that of his few friends, his penchant for West Indies rum is beginning to take its toll. Despite his rough, sometimes unkempt demeanor, Mac is a very vain individual. It was quite a blow to his ego when he finally came to the realization that the young coeds frequenting the bar on the weekends looked upon him as nothing more than a sloppy old drunk that would buy any young female that spoke with him a drink. And he wouldn’t have come to that realization were it not for the Professor’s insight into such matters. The professor was an acute observer, Mac grudgingly admitted. If he paid attention, he might actually learn a thing or two from the old man.

He is almost to the end of the bar when he inadvertently brushes up against a young woman’s breast. The soft, sensuous feel of her against his arm is unmistakable. Being the consummate gentleman, Mac quickly pulls his arm away and turns toward the girl with a sheepish grin of apology blanketing his face. Hell, he’d kicked men’s asses for doing less.

Unlike most of the girls in the place, this one doesn’t turn her nose up at him as if looking upon an old lecher. Instead of quickly turning away as Mac expects of her, she stands her ground and smiles back at him, her demeanor almost challenging.

Momentarily taken aback by her brazen attitude, Mac’s sheepish grin relaxes and he gives her a genuine smile of appreciation while instinctively sizing her up and liking what he concludes. For the briefest of moments, he contemplates the urgency of the phone call against this young woman standing only inches from him.

Then, quickly realizing the foolishness of his thoughts, he hurriedly moves on toward the phone still lying where Sam left it on the ledge. But his fingers have barely closed around the handset when he senses the firmness of her breasts pressing into his back.

Still holding the phone in his right hand, he slowly pivots around on his heel to face the girl and her firm perky breasts now pressing up against his muscular chest, every intake of her breath reaffirming their presence in his quickly clearing mind.

Holding the phone out to the side, he looks down into her eyes and is immediately lost in their deep dark depths, a sudden dizziness causing him to stumble, though his feet never moved. Everything that he was only subconsciously aware of a moment prior is reaffirmed in his first truly appraising study of her. Brazenly, he slowly looks her over, not missing any of the small details. From the slight upturn of her nose, the lightly blushed freckles high up on her proud cheeks to the straightness of her teeth, he notices all of this in the briefest of moments as she smiles beguilingly up at him.

Fitting tightly to every curve of her sensuous body is a silky blue dress, the length of which rises well above her knees revealing youthfully muscled thighs and calves. Her hair is of a reddish brown, the length indeterminate because of the styling and yet clearly short of her shoulders. Based solely on her forwardly brazen attitude, he guesses her to be of Irish descent.

Although his first impression of her is that of a mature and sensuous woman, there is something beguiling about her in a coltish sort of way. If he had to guess her age, he’d be hard put to be much more accurate than somewhere between seventeen and twenty-five.

**1**

If this has anything to do with an initiation, young lady, I really ain’t got the time, I firmly state, my tone almost admonishing.

Having read people my entire life, many times the accuracy of such readings dictating whether or not I lived to fight another day, I discern a spark of disappointment flashing across her features and I immediately regret my shortness with her.

But she is very quick to recover and faster to respond than I as she fires back under her breath, catching me off guard, There isn’t anyone on the phone.

How would you…, I start to demand, but she quickly cuts me off.

Instead, she nods toward the door and whispers almost breathlessly into my ear, Meet me outside in two.

Before I can protest or question her, she spins away from me and is gone as she quickly blends into the burgeoning crowd and the rising noise. Yet, before she is completely lost to my sight, I notice that her height is accentuated by the fact that she’s wearing three-inch heels that are forcing her to swing her hips in a very seductive manner. Unable to look away from the spot where my eyes last saw her, I reflexively put the phone to my ear and feign a conversation with the dial tone. If I’m being played for a prank, so be it. I’ll give them this one laugh on me.

Hanging up the phone, I slowly work my way back to my empty stool, which the professor has kept reserved for me. Although I don’t have much time before my secret rendezvous with the mystery woman, my senses are quickly clearing of the alcohol-induced grogginess and I ask the professor for the first time, What is your fascination with me?

Smiling broadly at me as if to say he is surprised that it has taken me this long in our relationship to bring up the question, he calmly states, You are a very interesting man, my friend. I suspect there is much more to you than what the eye sees. It is only my wish to discover some of that mystery and to determine what makes a man such as you tick, shall we say?

I don’t have time tonight or I would investigate that further, I admit with all honesty, the previous effects of the rum nothing more than a fond memory now. If you will excuse me.

Of course, he gracefully accedes. Yet, I don’t mind telling you that I find your actions tonight very intriguing. As an afterthought, he quickly adds, You know I’ll be here till closing. Should you find your way back, I’ll have Sam hold a bottle for us. He hesitates for just the briefest of moments before adding, I believe, Mr. McClain that you are finally going to give me what I came here for.

To hide my unease at his remark, I pause for just the slightest of moments before turning back to him and flippantly remarking, Something tells me we’ll be drinking that bottle another night.

He lifts his glass in mock salute as I turn away and head toward the door, my feet steadier on the rough plank flooring than they’d been in a long time. For the first time in a long time also, I find myself gauging the room, studying the looks being cast my way with a keen eye for malicious intent. The adrenaline is beginning to flow through my veins in anticipation of something about to happen and yet, there is no real cause for my heightened awareness, my paranoia. Truth be known, I’ve followed many young women from bars and tonight’s invitation shouldn’t be sending up so many warning flags.

Yet, I cannot shake the feeling. And as a man that has survived this long by trusting his instincts, I trust them now. In an almost unconscious gesture, I reaffirm my armament, which tonight consists of nothing more than a small lock-knife. I would feel a lot more comfortable if I were carrying my 357 magnum. But I hadn’t anticipated anything more dangerous than a few drinks and possibly busting up a brawl or two between testosterone pumping college lads. It isn’t so much that I care about kids fighting. I really don’t. I just don’t want to see the place get damaged and possibly have to close for repairs. That would be unthinkable!

**2**

As I reach the door, two young coeds enter, the man stepping aside quickly and holding the door for me as his girl grins at me.

Thanks, I nod, stepping through into the orange glow of the neon beer signs lining the covered boardwalk.

Before the door swings to, I overhear the girl whisper loudly to her escort, He’s leaving early tonight. I wonder what’s going on that’s so important.

It does my heart good to note that a young girl and not too bad looking either, had taken notice of my presence in here on a regular basis. Maybe I’m not so far gone yet as I think. After all, a damn good-looking woman did just invite me out to the parking lot.

But the sudden rush I’d gotten from the young girl’s words is just as quickly shattered as the guy quips under his breath with a smirk, Let’s hope they haven’t run out of booze.

A sharp breeze cuts across my bare face with the same impact as the young buck’s words. The temperature has dropped substantially since my arrival and the breeze is carrying a hint of snow with it. Glancing around, I notice the familiar parking lot is crowded with a variety of automobiles. Some are relics and nothing more than cheap transport while others are high end luxury cars that are more than likely borrowed from unsuspecting parents. With a touch of rye, I imagine the expression on the parent’s faces if they only knew what their precious little babes were up to.

But that isn’t my concern. At the moment, I am more concerned with the whereabouts of one very fine looking young woman in a silky blue dress sporting 3 inch heels. I wasn’t so far behind her that I should have lost track of her so quickly.

Feeling the bite of the cold night air penetrating my double-knit sweater, I’m about to turn back toward the door and return to the smoky warmth within and write the whole business off as just another joke on a middle-aged, slightly inebriated fool when a car bolts out of nowhere and screeches to a halt directly in front of me.

It’s a sleek dark sedan, possibly a Lincoln Town Car. The front passenger’s side window slides down and the beauty that enticed me out into the night smiles at me and nods toward the rear door, which opens simultaneously. Hesitating for only a fraction of a second, I climb into the rear seat and find myself sitting next to a distinguished looking man in a dark suit. Even in the hazy gloom of the overhead light, I can tell the suit is expensive and exquisitely tailored to his somewhat full stature, which even while seated appears to be every bit as tall as I am. And though his paunch appears large while sitting, I sense an underlying strength. His broad face and large nose put me in mind of someone that is accustomed to fighting for what he has and isn’t going to let go of his spoils without an equally savage fight. It takes only a moment longer to realize this is not going to be a ménage à trois.

**3**

George McClain, he states more than questions, extending a beefy paw.

This is not what I was expecting and I suddenly wondered why I even got into the car. Feeling my anger rise at the disappointment of being misled by the woman and not being in much of a mood to discuss business, I gruffly remark, You have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. Am I supposed to know you?

We’ve never met, if that’s what you’re asking, he replies, unperturbed at retracting his extended hand. But I have heard of you, he quickly adds with a knowing grin, trying to get to me through my ego.

I can only imagine what you’ve heard, I drily remark. Glancing at the driver, it is easily apparent to me that he is unfamiliar with the road. The girl, meanwhile, is sitting sideways in the seat so as to keep an eye on me. She smiles at me as I look from the driver to her. Maybe there is hope for us yet, I wonder distractedly.

Where are we going and what do you want of me? I ask, turning my attention back to the man in the seat beside me.

My name is irrelevant…, he starts.

Before he can go on, I interrupt him, I wasn’t asking.

Taken aback by my nonchalant attitude for a moment, he starts again, Fair enough. Clearing his throat, he says, This will be a strictly cash transaction. So there is no misunderstanding about terms. I will pay you up front in full. Like I was saying, I’ve heard a lot about you. First off, you are a man of your word. Secondly, you’re currently in need of a paycheck. Before I go any further, is there anything you would care to add?

Sounds to me like you did your homework, I reply, taking the opportunity to smile at the lady in the front seat.

Although she smiles back as sweetly as any woman ever has to me, I can see now that our relationship or wishing thereof, is all one-sided. Turning back to face the big man as squarely as the confines of the town car will allow, I calmly inquire, Who do you want dead?

My statement catches him completely off guard and he stumbles to find his next words. "I’m sorry, but you have completely misread me. No one is going to die! In fact, it is just that that I hope to avoid, with your help.

For the second time since climbing into the back seat of the town car, he has my full attention. The first time, though I didn’t let it show at the time, was when he said he was going to pay me in cash up front.

Ignoring the other two in the car, I focus my attention on the big man and begin studying him anew. It quickly becomes apparent that my first impressions were only half right. He is a man that worked hard for what he has, but he didn’t kill anyone to reach his appointed pinnacle in life. Now, someone wants to knock him off that pinnacle and he needs my help to maintain his hold. Can we talk now, or are we going somewhere more private? I ask, indicating the driver and the girl.

You’ll be spending the night in the city. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the privilege of booking a room for you at the casino. I’ll give you some of the details on the drive and then we’ll discuss the finer points over dinner.

Clearly, he doesn’t want to open up in front of one or the other in the front seat. But which, I can’t tell because neither seems put out by his comment.

Go ahead, I remark. I needed to get away from the sticks for awhile anyway. Too many people trying to convince me I need to spend the holidays with them.

Excuse me?

Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.

Shaking off my comment, he says with a smile, I hear you like a specific type of rum. Could I interest you in a glass of West Indies? Still smiling, he unlatches a fold-up table and lets it drop down from the back of the driver’s seat. Reaching uncomfortably because of his immense size, he produces two glasses and a bottle of my favorite from the well near his feet. Puffing from the exertion, he smiles embarrassedly and adds, I would have brought the limo, but I wanted to be less conspicuous.

While trying to read the label on the bottle, I distractedly reply, Quite alright.

Setting the glasses on the little table, the bottle clinks gently against the rims as the sedan takes the potholes and cracked pavement in stride. Handing me a glass, he states with a smile, A toast to our partnership.

Although his words should have raised little caution flags all up and down my senses, I am too concerned with placing the glass to my lips before a precious drop might be lost to the unappreciative upholstery.

Whether my benefactor really favors West Indies rum or just liquor in general is yet to be determined. But within a matter of silent moments, we are both more than half way to the bottom of our respective glasses.

Settling himself in to the seat as if readying for a long trip, he raises his glass in salute and states, It’s a fine beverage, Mr. McClain.

Feeling more relaxed, I quickly say, Please, although your name isn’t important to me, you can call me Mac.

Thank you, he replies appreciatively. After a moment, he says, It is very generous of you to drop all your other cases on such short notice.

You appear to be a man in need, I acknowledge, not caring to admit that I didn’t have any other cases. In fact, if the truth be known, I hadn’t worked for some time. Oh, my friends throw me the occasional divorce case or bail skip. But nothing that really pays the bills and keeps me in the style that I’ve grown accustomed. That, as of late, isn’t much more than an unkempt room over Sammy’s Hangout. And why Sam lets me hang around without paying rent, I’ll never know, though I do have my suspicions.

Yes, he agrees, his thoughts drifting off momentarily. But with you on board, I feel better already, he suddenly blurts, smiling over his glass at me. Even the blonde in the front seat turns and smiles at me.

For the briefest of moments, I feel as if someone is playing a cosmic joke on me and I’m the only one that doesn’t get it. But the feeling quickly dissipates and seriousness returns. I hope I don’t disappoint you. But until I know what it is you expect of me, I can’t be certain of anything.

I apologize for the secrecy, he states sincerely. Let me tell you what I can. He pauses to take a sip and smile over his glass as if sharing some secret joke with me. Your services will be needed for up to two weeks, if everything goes as I expect it will. For your time, I am willing to pay you one hundred thousand dollars a week in cash. This will be paid to you upfront tonight so that you may have an opportunity to put it in a safe place before your commitment to me begins.

I appreciate that, I quickly murmur, trying to hide my shock at the amount.

If everything goes smoothly, you will only see me one more time, Mr., I mean, Mac. At that time, I will provide you with a substantial bonus for a job well done. If for any reason, you never see me again after tonight, you still have the two hundred thousand and no hard feelings between us. Are those terms acceptable to you?

Yes, that is very generous of you. But really, there is no need to promise a bonus for a successful outcome. You will get my best no matter, I state matter-of-factly.

I already know that, Mac, he replies, smiling over his glass again as he takes another sip.

**4**

It quickly grows apparent that he doesn’t intend on refilling our glasses when I reach the bottom of mine and make a point of holding it to my mouth so every last drop is drained. We ride on in silence for another half hour before the frequency of lights passing by the windows indicates that we are nearing civilization.

As if to confirm my thoughts, the driver states in a mortuary parlor voice, We are almost there, Sir.

Very good. Take us around to the rear entrance and wait for me, the man beside me orders, a slight tinge of anxiety creeping into his voice.

Not sure what to do with the empty glass, I carefully set it between my feet on the floor. My thoughts are suddenly interrupted when the beautiful blonde in the front seat suddenly blurts out animatedly, Don’t you just love all the lights?

Looking out the side window next to the large man’s head, I take note of the casino whose parking lot we are entering. It is a well-known establishment and I suddenly wonder how high up the food chain my benefactor sits. At the very least, he is a pit boss. But more likely, judging from his well-heeled appearance, he holds a seat on the board of directors.

Her question seemed addressed to all until I look forward and see her smiling back at me. Clearing my throat, I huskily remark, Actually, I prefer the dark.

Licking her lips as though contemplating a raw steak, she responds, Ooh, I never thought how much fun the dark could be.

During her theatrics, the large man’s scrutiny of me doesn’t go unnoticed.

To my immense relief, the vehicle comes to a sudden stop and I hurriedly open the door and take a deep breath of the cool night air while trying to clear the remnants of the rum from my mind. My huge benefactor and the blonde get out right behind me. Where are you going? I demand of her, my voice a bit curt.

She’s going with us, the large man quickly states, not leaving any room for argument as he takes the lead toward a fire door somewhat hidden from view behind the stairs leading to the upper floor balconies.

Smiling at me as if she just got away with something, she fancifully prances after the large man. Her behavior is completely out of character from that of the mature seductive blonde that approached me at Sammy’s. Taking only a quick moment to glance around the parking lot and confirm that we aren’t being watched, I fall in behind them. Catching the door before it closes, I turn one last time and watch as the driver puts the sedan in gear and screeches away. I can’t help but feel his destination is some less conspicuous parking spot where he will be able to monitor the door for my benefactor’s return.

Once we’re all inside and the door has closed, the large man turns and hands me a room key. Take her with you. It’s on the fourth floor. I’ll be up in a minute.

Suddenly things were looking up again. Almost jovially, I quip, Yes Boss.

My reaction causes him to pause, almost as if reconsidering his entire plan. But without another word, he turns and heads hurriedly down the hall. Letting the girl lead the way, we follow him as far as the elevators, at which point he turns to the left and heads deeper into the heart of the building while leaving us to wait for our ride.

He seems awful familiar with this place, I casually remark, studying her face in the brighter light of the hallway.

He shou..., she starts, and then catches herself.

You were going to say, I press, noticing that her beauty not only withstands the scrutiny of the fluorescent lights, but actually revels in it.

Nothing, she quickly replies, momentarily losing her composure for the first time since meeting her.

You were going to say he should be familiar with this place because he owns it. Weren’t you?

That’s not what I was going to say at all, she defensively argues, looking nervous.

Look, I don’t know what’s going on here yet. But I’m sure that’s going to be changing soon enough. I pause for a moment, taking pleasure in her discomfort. For what it’s worth, I won’t mention it to your boss.

She gives me a timid nod of her head in appreciation and then the elevator opens before us. Following her in, I make a mental note to myself to investigate the ownership of this place at some point in the future. Although it’s not uncommon in my line of work to perform services for very discreet clients that don’t want their name being attached to me, it is uncommon for me to work for a client when I don’t even know his name. And if it wasn’t for the hard reality of my current financial situation, I never would have gotten into the sedan in the first place. Well, maybe I would have. There was the silky blue dress and 3 inch heels.

The elevator takes us nonstop to the fourth floor. When we emerge, I notice once again the lack of people. In fact, the hall on this floor is as deserted as that on the ground floor. A casino of this size and popularity is like a cruise ship- every floor should have a mix of customers and employs going about their business at all hours of the day and night. Whether this lack of activity is coincidence or had been preplanned is yet to be determined. Either way, I find it very unnerving.

My first thoughts when he handed me a key to a fourth floor room was that he wanted it to be inconspicuous. With at least twenty-seven floors to choose from, there couldn’t be any more relevance to it than just anonymity. Yet, the fourth floor would have been a lot easier to close off from the public than say the top floor. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that this was well thought out and pre-planned.

With me close on her heels, she suddenly stops and asks, What number?

Holding the key out, I show her while stating, Four-twenty-one.

Spinning around, she heads off down the hall and stops before a non-descript door on the right, five down from the elevator. Here, she says almost impatiently, waiting for me to slide the key card