Chapter 6 - Hunter Cocker

Book 31 of Cocker Brothers

You can listen to me narrating the new chapter below. Please forgive my Portuguese accent. They do have a mix of what sounds like Russian though, and I have played Russian characters as an actress. It’s a quality that distinguishes the Portuguese from the Spanish. And maybe even from Brazillian Portuguese - not sure because I’ve never been to Brazil. Anyhoo, enjoy!

CHAPTER 6

I step out of the cab. Lisbon night air crisp against my skin. Wary, I glance up to my new hotel. Salmon pink in a cool way. Not gaudy, no. This place is pure Portugal. I scan the base. Just like most buildings, time and storms have given it an ashy sheen. Like shadows crawled up from the ground and stayed there. The buildings have no space between them, all colors sandwiched one after the other. To the right and left are yellows, mint-greens, eggshell whites. Tiny balconies with wood doors that lead to a view of the Atlantic Ocean skimming terra cotta rooftops.

I scan the winding street. See one tiny restaurant. The kind that only the locals know about. The kind that opens after seven at night. Closes when their neighbors stop coming in. A smattering of white tables on a patio that takes up half the street. Chairs askew and ready for bodies. Umbrellas prepped to fend off sun or rain. Whichever decides to surprise.

The cobblestones like they are on all the narrow streets, checkered with tiles. Slippery in the rain.

It’s quiet here. Charming as fuck. Zero pedestrians. I frown, thinking to myself, it’s too bad. I was hoping to stay a while. Things escalated. And I hate to admit it’s my fault.

But it is.

This place, though? I chose wisely. On the other side of town from the mess I left behind, this place is safe.

But I know better than to let my guard down. With the body of that assailant still sprawled out in my last hotel room, I can’t afford any more slip-ups.

That Tatianna. She gave me up.

My phone rings and I leave my suitcase — a carry-on for quick mobility — beside the hotel’s entrance. To anyone interested, it’s a normal case with normal contents. If they only knew. But they don’t. Normal people expect normal things, so why would they?

I answer the phone, “Snuggle buns!”

Reynolds sighs. “Okay, so you’re not saying my name aloud. You’re somewhere public, but do you have to resort to—”

“—I can’t wait for you to join me. There have been some changes though.”

Her pause lasts only a second. “You found out who left the bug.”

“No. I had a meeting. Let’s just say it was…unplanned. That woman I told you about?”

“Is your phone…okay? I’m hearing static.”

That’s code for is this call compromised.

“No static here. Though I am not in my room so…”

“I see. You’re in public. Phone’s fine.”

“You know what I love most about you, lover? Your brain.”

Reynolds growls, “I can hear the smirk in your voice at calling your superior officer your lover. You’re such a cocky sonofabitch, you know that?!”

“I can’t wait to see you and I’ve just arrived at our hotel. I’ll text you the address so you can find it right after you get off the plane. Gotta go. Wait for that text. It’s got dick pics in it."

“There better not be—”

I hang up. Quickly text:

_____________

Don’t call me names. The beauty told E.T. to call home. Disappointing. Old hotel sucks. Dirty. Need a cleaner in that room or bad reviews are coming. Can you send that package to this address?

_____________

Reynolds knows this means:

• My cover is blown. I need a new name.

• Tatianna blew my cover to Edward Thornton, not the cute alien with the glowing finger. She’s the reason a hit man was sent for me. I’m bummed about that because she was…something else.

• CIA must dispose of a body before its discovery hits the news. They’ve got local guys who clean up these messes.

• I need a new alias, passport, credit card, and can’t book a hotel room until I do, so she’s gotta buy it with that abundant CIA money, and send my papers by overnight.

I return to my suitcase. Glance around the winding road. A seagull makes a sound like a crying baby, flies overhead and lands on a lantern. “Got no food for you buddy,” I tell it.

My phone buzzes. A text from S. R. with no preview showing.

_____________

Wyatt Carson, you dog. You know I’ve got you covered. Oh, and never send me d-pics. Ever.

_____________

Shannon Reynolds, you doll. That was fast.

There’s something great about having a team you can rely on. It gives you confidence knowing they always do a good job. Keeps the bar raised for me. To never let her down.

Like I did today.

Dammit!

I may be cracking jokes with her but I’m angry at myself. I’ve got to finish this mission without any more mistakes.

Inside, the receptionist looks up from her computer, offering a smile that turns saucy. She’s sizing me up, and is very interested.

“Welcome to Hotel Por do Sol.” Her accent is thick, with a slight sound of Russian to it. “How can I assist?”

I can tell she means more than just giving me a room. “Good evening. I’m checking in. My name is Wyatt Carson,” I smoothly reply. “I just booked a room online.”

Sharp nails tap my new alias into the system. I scan the intimate lobby and find it empty save for plush furniture, tourist brochures, and a rug thick enough you never hear footsteps.

When I looked this place up from the taxi, the room selections offered were many. That’s why I chose it. Hardly anyone here. Didn’t know there’d be someone running the desk. I want to sneak out of here without anyone noticing.

This woman would notice.

“Here you are, Mr. Carson.” Her come-hither stare locks onto me as she hands me an antique key.

“Never saw a key like this before.” I just need to get into that safe.

“Will you be staying long?”

“Yes.” I’ll be breaking into it late tonight. Then I’ll be gone. Soon as I get my papers tomorrow.

“Good. I work only tonight.”

Distracted, I ask, “Sorry?”

“I…how you say…have my other nights gone.”

I blink at her. “Oh! Off…You mean you’re off on the other nights.” She wants me to ask her out. Or up. Tempting. “My girlfriend will be meeting me here. We’re going to be engaged.”

“I’m sorry. I speak little English.”

“Married.”

She glances to my empty ring finger. “Married?”

“Not yet. Soon.”

Her face falls. “I’m too bad.”

That’s not what she meant to say but I get the gist. “It is too bad. If I weren’t…” I let my words fade away, giving her a wink.

I’d have asked her up if today had gone any other way. If I hadn’t just killed a man. If I hadn’t met Tatianna. If I hadn’t mucked everything up. Not only do I not have time for a fuck but I’m not in the mood.

And that’s not like me.

She professionally nods, “Have good night, Mr. Carson.” Smile gone.

Carson. Reynolds gave me a compliment with that one. Or a barb. Johnny Carson. One of the funniest men of his time. Witty and subtle. Like me.

“Call me Wyatt,” I smile, slightly amused at the new alias. Wyatt is my cousin and he’s a cop. If he had any idea who I am, what I did today, and that he’s my new cover. “And you are…” Even if I can’t take her bed, I can keep her as an ally.

“Anna.”

“Beautiful name, Anna. If I’d have only met you earlier.”

She beams at me, and I head to an elevator so old it probably knew Werner von Siemens personally.

Author’s note below…

Hi gorgeous! You’ll get the eBook free when this ride is finished, and you’ll see the text messages display like text messages there.

Also, if you click from your email when these arrive, to the App or Substack website, you can press the play-button up top and hear a robot read them to you.

I decided to narrate this one since it’s after midnight here in Portugal, and I’ve had a little too much coffee.

The seagulls are a thing by the way.

I’ve been making videos of the sights. If you’d like to see them, I can post them here if you let me know if the comments.

Orrrrrrr you can follow me on Tiktok at this account dedicated purely to my travels.

Did you know you can refer friends for free months, if they become paid subscribers?

Use this link.

Thank you so much! Have a beautiful evening,

xx,

Faleena Hopkins