The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  Not that he would tell her, but Chris was a jealous motherfucker. Even the thought of Valeria spending time with another man—before him, it didn’t matter—had his green monster beating at the bars of its cage. He kept the bastard in place if only because he didn’t think she would appreciate it. Hadn’t she put up with enough bullshit from a man who thought he owned her?

  Chris would not be another.

  Valeria peered up at him, her pink lips curving into a soft smile as he stroked two fingers up and down her arm under the blanket. “I was young when they forced me to marry Jorge, but you know that, don’t you?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “He was the first man ...” She flinched, but added, “He was the first for me. And then I ran, stayed running for years, and kept busy raising my daughter because she was always most important.”

  Ah.

  Chris thought he might understand what Valeria had been trying to tell him, but he remained quiet, and allowed her the chance to say it without his input. This woman didn’t use her voice enough, and when she did, God knew she watched every single word that came out of her mouth.

  Shame, that.

  She said beautiful things.

  People were missing out.

  Their loss, he supposed.

  His gain.

  “I never learned what it meant to enjoy being with someone emotionally, or physically. Love was always abusive. Sex only hurt. I never had the chance to figure out what I wanted and what was good for me until you, and this isn’t even a thing. It’s not right, we shouldn’t have done this, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do when you go. I can’t let him touch me, anymore. I can’t—”

  “Shhh,” Chris murmured, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. Valeria’s eyes fluttered closed, and her frown melted away. That was better. “Val, listen—”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Yeah.

  There it was.

  “I don’t want to go, either,” he muttered.

  He needed to be here. Someone had to keep an eye on this woman because no one else was doing it. Undoubtedly, leaving would kill him inside when it meant she would face hell alone. Yes, she had been doing it for years before him, but that didn’t matter to him at all.

  She shouldn’t have to.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Valeria looked away from him. “I don’t understand.”

  “When this is over, and you can do whatever you want to do, what is it you want?”

  “Still not sure when that’ll happen, Chris.”

  Right.

  “Part of hope is having something to hope for,” he murmured against her cheek, letting his nose nuzzle her soft, warm skin. “So, what are you hoping for, Val?”

  She stayed quiet.

  He waited her out.

  “You,” she said. “I’m hoping for you, and what you gave me here. I don’t want to forget it when you’re gone, I don’t think I can because I’m hoping for something better, and that’s you.”

  Chris tightened his arms around her trembling form because, all too soon, he would let her go again. “You’ll have that. I promise.”

  He didn’t break those.

  He wouldn’t.

  “Will I? How?”

  Asking her to trust him again—how many times had he said that now?—didn’t seem like it was what she wanted, and so Chris said nothing at all. Actions were still louder than words, and he was working on making this a reality one fucking step at a time. It was the best he could do right now.

  His silence wasn’t the response she wanted either. Valeria turned in his lap, the blanket around them falling to the stall floor before she was straddling him. Her hands found his face, and those sharp fingernails of her dragged teasingly against his skin as she pulled him in for a hard kiss. There was no give to it—only her taking.

  He didn’t care.

  She wanted it?

  Have it.

  In the back of his mind, Chris recognized they were running out of time here. She needed to head back to the house before someone noticed she left. Or even, before a guard made a trip through the stables just because.

  And yet, all those thoughts faded away when her hands fell between them. Her palms found his cock, grabbing tight and stroking him alive in a few firm pulls. He didn’t speak the truth—that she needed to go—when her lips still crushed against his, and her tongue seemed intent to lick his flavor straight from his fucking mouth.

  God.

  It was so damn good though.

  He swore, over the notes of the hay and the horses, of old wood and dirt floor, he still smelled the lingering whiff of their sex in the air. Of her fresh, yet warm perfume that reminded him of a summer rain in the dead heat.

  “Again, once more before you go,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Her words danced along his lips, sinful and tantalizing. Who could say no to that? It’s what he wanted, too. If he could keep this woman with him forever, he would do exactly that.

  Chris reached for his discarded pants, digging through the pocket to find the last fucking condom he had. She took the foil packet from his fingertips, ripping it open before making quick work of sheathing his hard length in latex. Air hissed between his teeth when she settled on top of him, hovering with the head of his cock sliding between the fleshy lips of her sex while she watched him.

  Perfect.

  She was so fucking perfect.

  When she came down on his length, he swore he found heaven. Even if it was his personal brand of hell, too. After all, it only reminded him that she wasn’t entirely his.

  Not yet.

  “You made me trust you,” she breathed against his mouth, but it almost seemed like something else. It almost sounded like you made me love you, and fuck, he felt that inside his bones. He heard that louder, echoing in his heart with the beats it pumped, and spreading like a wildfire ready to devastate his soul. Not that he had a soul anymore because he gave it to this fucking woman, and he had no idea when that happened. “And now you’re leaving.”

  “Not for long. I swear, not for long.”

  That hurt.

  It hurt him, too.

  • • •

  The day Chris would leave the ranch came far too soon for his liking. Despite having a ticket bought, and a time he had to be at the airport to make his flight, he still took his time packing up his bag in the guest house he used during his stay. One thing at a time—slowly.

  Soon, he’d packed his bags, and set them on the front porch of the small house. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared out over the property and the houses connected by small pathways.

  Time to say goodbye.

  Even if wasn’t a goodbye.

  It still seemed like it.

  Chris picked up the bag at his feet, settling his raging heart to finish this. The quicker he left, the faster this plan—even if he didn’t understand everything, and still had more yet to figure out on his end—would get started. And that’s what he wanted and needed more than anything, right?

  To get Val, and Maria, away from here.

  It sucked he had to leave first.

  Chris hadn’t expected Jorge to be waiting in front of his house, a handful of men loitering within shouting distance, as he came down the pathway. While the man had been mostly respectful during his stay here, Chris understood it wasn’t because Jorge wanted to be. Rather, it was because he had to be.

  He wanted that deal.

  Now, he had it.

  He thought.

  “Ready to head out?” Jorge asked, his foot kicking out at Maria’s striped gray and white kitten that jumped over his boot. “Damn cat. Maria! Get out here and put this goddamn thing somewhere before I throw it off the cliffs!”

  Chris tried not to show his annoyance at hearing the little girl he cared a great deal for be yelled at in that way. And by her own father, no less. She was such a sweet child, but her father didn’t seem to care. />
  “I am heading out,” Chris said as the screen door on the porch pushed open. Little Maria came out, but wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze as she came down the steps. Not too far behind her was her mother. Valeria stayed in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, and watched Chris from a safe distance. “Have to catch that flight, or I will never hear the end from my mother when I don’t show up for her dinner tomorrow.”

  Jorge made a noise under his breath. “Women. They’re all the fucking same. More trouble than they’re worth.” Then, to his daughter who picked up the kitten, he snapped, “And keep the fucking thing out of my sight, got it?”

  Maria looked over her shoulder and nodded. Still, her gaze drifted to Chris for a moment, meeting his. He swore, in the depths of her irises, he saw the little girl’s secrets, all the things she had seen and known, staring back at him.

  “Remember,” she said to him, “you promised.”

  His heart ached.

  All over, so painful, and unrelenting.

  It hurt.

  Chris nodded. “I did, Maria, and I’ll keep it.”

  In the doorway, Valeria called for her daughter, the flash of worry on her face disappearing when Jorge looked her way. “Come on, Maria, and we’ll get the kitty milk in a bowl, so she’ll be sleepy.”

  “Okay, Mamá.”

  Maria darted up the stairs, and into her mother’s waiting arms. It killed Chris to look away from them, but he did it. He was not good at hiding his affections. One of his only flaws, but he couldn’t afford for it to be on display.

  Jorge shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as his attention came back to Chris. “And what did you promise my daughter?”

  He chuckled.

  Dry and tense as it was.

  “Just that I would come back and say hello someday,” Chris murmured. “She’s a sweet child. You should be proud of her—fathers and their daughters, hmm?”

  Jorge arched a brow. “Proud, sure.”

  Fuck him.

  He didn’t deserve that child, or her mother. Jorge might have helped to create Maria’s life, but he had nothing more to do with it than that. He provided the sperm, but Maria didn’t reflect the man.

  She deserved a good man in her life—a father who would show her what real love and care was between a daughter, and her dad. She needed someone to show her how she deserved to be treated by the men in her life, so she didn’t go looking for it somewhere else.

  Jorge understood nothing about that; his reaction wasn’t shocking. It still annoyed Chris to no fucking end, and only strengthened his resolve to make sure Maria, and her mother, found the happiness they deserved far away from this place, and the people here.

  Including Jorge.

  Any man could be a father.

  All it took was the spunk from his balls.

  Being a dad was not the same.

  “A car will meet you at the gate,” Jorge said, nodding toward the dirt road, “like when you arrived.”

  Right.

  Because the only vehicles allowed this far into the ranch brought the family back to their homes, or ones carrying drugs. Jorge’s rules never changed, not even for a guest who had promised to make him billions on a smuggling deal.

  Whatever.

  Chris didn’t mind the walk.

  “Pleasure doing business with you and your father,” Jorge said. “Have a good flight, Chris.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I don’t think it’s finished yet.”

  Chris didn’t allow Jorge the chance to question him on what he meant because he had already spun on his heels and headed for the road. He figured ... let him wonder. It would be good for him even if he wouldn’t see what came next.

  • • •

  Chris took in the darkening sky as the town car crawled through a busy section of the city. His driver, one of the Lòpez grunts, kept quiet throughout the drive. The man in the passenger seat, only there for decoration because he did nothing else, also remained silent throughout the drive.

  Not that Chris cared.

  He had other things on his mind.

  A few miles from the airport, the two men in the front conversed back and forth in Spanish. It still left Chris out of the conversation, mostly. He had picked up a few words and phrases since his time here, and some language was close to Italian—or rather, close enough he made do.

  “Happy ... gone,” he caught from one.

  “It is who Jorge is,” he understood better from the other.

  Chris almost chuckled, understanding they were talking about him, and that Jorge wanted to see him go. He was fine with that, too, but he would be a hell of a lot better once he took Valeria and Maria from the man’s clutches.

  Soon, he told himself.

  It would happen soon.

  “What time is the flight again?”

  The quick switch to English had Chris looking forward to meet the driver’s stare in the rear-view mirror. A brow raised in question to his silence, but Chris said, “Five-twenty.”

  “Ah, we’re making good time, then.”

  Chris checked his Rolex, saying as he tilted his head down, “Looks like it.”

  “What the fuck—Juan!”

  He didn’t get the chance to find out what the other man in the passenger seat shouted about because the impact of something hitting their car sent Chris flying across the back of the vehicle. He hadn’t buckled in. A mistake. His head cracked against the glass of the rear passenger window, but that was the least of his worries.

  Tires screeched and crunched.

  Metal crashed.

  One man cursed, another yelled.

  Chris’s ears rang as he flipped over in the backseat again, unable to stop his body from rolling all the way to the other side of the car. This time, his shoulder snapped hard against the plastic of the door, an ache spreading.

  He didn’t focus on the pain.

  Not when adrenaline coursed through his system, making him hyper aware of the bits of debris flying all around his head, and the force of the rolling car sending him flying to the roof on his back. Holy shit.

  He should have buckled up.

  The car came to a stop, but on its top. Chris rolled over to his knees, the pressure in his ears making the men’s voices from the front sound like they mumbled under water. His hands scraped against the shards of glass that had littered the roof of the car, but he barely even felt the sting when it cut his palms.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled, still trying to figure out what happened.

  What had happened?

  That hit he took to the head made his vision cloudy, and his mind slow. Too slow. He lifted his head, nausea filling him as his hearing came back with an almost painful clarity. Outside of the car, an alarm sounded.

  Their vehicle?

  Maybe.

  The alarm didn’t concern him.

  The three men coming for the car did.

  Shit.

  The men said nothing, and the fools in the front of their overturned vehicle didn’t even have time to react before they had leaned in the car with guns aimed. Guns with silencers already attached.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  Two shots.

  Two men dead.

  The three men didn’t even speak together as they worked. This had been planned, obviously, and they understood what they had to do. Simple as that.

  Chris blinked, seeing the blood that sprayed against the side of the windshield that hadn’t broken into little pieces like the rest. The rusty tang of the blood filled the car, and gunpowder, freshly fired, mixed with it. He’d smelled that before. It still made his stomach roll into knots all the same.

  The third man, the one who hadn’t fired his gun, kneeled to stare in the back seat where Chris remained on all fours, trying to figure out his next move. Any other time, and he would have already been dead.

  “April showers bring May flowers,” the man murmured, his English decent, but his accent still thick, and clear. Chris heard the wo
rds, and understood what they meant, but his shock still hadn’t died yet. “Tell the Lòpez family the Garcías aren’t going anywhere, Canadian, and because of their deal with you, the war is on.”

  17.

  “Val, come in here, now.”

  Maria peered up at her mother from the pile of wooden blocks they had used to build a school for her three Barbie dolls. Valeria was quick to give her daughter a smile, not wanting the girl to worry herself over Jorge, and whatever he wanted. His sharp tone had likely caused Maria’s concern, but then again, the man was always harsh.

  He didn’t have a concept of kindness.

  “I’ll be right back,” Valeria said, “and by then, you can decide what we will build next, okay?”

  Maria nodded. “Okay, Mamá.”

  Valeria wouldn’t waste time, so she headed to the rear of the house where Jorge worked in his office. Although working on what, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care to ask. Coming to stand in the doorway, she didn’t walk inside the office because that was yet another one of his rules.

  This space was his.

  Not hers.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  Behind the desk, Jorge kept his head down on the paperwork in front of him that he shuffled into a folder. He didn’t bother to glance up at her entrance, nor to greet her before he said, “I am heading out for a week—I need a break after these last few.”

  Great.

  She didn’t want to be here, but she also didn’t want to be elsewhere with her husband, either. That sounded like a problem waiting to happen, and not at all one she wanted to deal with, all things considered.

  Still, Valeria kept her attitude in check. That way, Jorge would keep his fucking moods, and his hands, to himself.

  “What will we need?”

  He chuckled. “No, me, Val. I am going away for the week. You will be fine here with the guards, Maria, and Abril to keep you company, I am sure.”

  Well, yes.

  She didn’t show her happiness at his news. That wouldn’t do her any good.

  “Where are you going?”

  Jorge glanced up, dark eyes nailing her to the floor with his displeasure. “Does it matter?”

  “No, of course, not. I wonder—”

  “Don’t bother.”