Loving the Czar (The Blakemore Files Book 6)

by Olivia Gaines

Since being at the ranch, Ryanne had grown really fond of Lucy’s Caddy, and asked if she could use the car to take Ms. Patsy into town.

  Lucy was far nicer sober than she had ever been before, which in itself was off putting and disturbing to those around her. She had also left the room once Odessa started to feed her children and was now in the kitchen trying to decide what was for dinner. “Do you need or want me to come along Mama?” she asked Ms. Patsy.

  “No, I think Ryanne here will take good care of me,” Patsy said as she made her way out the back door of the house. Based on the conversation Ryanne had with Lucy, all of her children were born at the Busy B. She confessed that she had been born at the ranch as well. Ryanne wanted to confess she needed a break and was eager to get away from the house for a little while.

  “Ms. Patsy, let me get the car nice and toasty and pick you up at the front door instead,” Ryanne suggested.

  Grandma Patsy wasn’t hearing it. “Don't try to treat me like some fragile old lady. I can walk just fine and besides, I could use the fresh air and exercise!”

  In Ryanne’s mind, she should have waited at the front door. The old lady nearly fell three times between the back door and garage, leaving Ryanne to walk arm and arm with her over the icy patches to get her to the car safely. It was rather cold for February and a freak storm had blown through several days earlier leaving little patches of black ice all over the grounds. There was a blanket on the back seat that Ryanne grabbed and placed over Patsy’s legs so they would stay warm until the car’s heater kicked in. As she pulled the car from the garage, Bobby Ray walked up and tapped on the window.

  “Where y’all heading?” he asked.

  “Just taking Ms. Patsy to the bank,” Ryanne told him.

  “Will you bring me back some tomato sauce and brown sugar? I think in honor of my new grandbabies, I am going to barbecue today,” he told her.

  “Sure thing,” Ryanne told him as he handed her a twenty. “Anything else you need while we are out?”

  Bobby Ray shook his head no as Lucy called to him, encouraging him to come inside to meet his grandchildren. The droll expression on his face indicated it looked like the last thing he wanted to do. He had stood outside the door when he heard Odessa’s grunts of labor. He could watch a colt foal with no problem, but a human born... that was too much for him.

  Ryanne reached out of the car window and grabbed his gloved hand telling him, “Sometimes the beauty of loving someone is the ability to start over and remember why you loved them in the first place.”

  He looked over his shoulder at his wife. She stood on the porch with her salt and pepper hair billowing in the wind. The brown eyes he had spent nearly forty years gazing into stared back at him. She bore him four beautiful children and here she stood in the cold February air, looking no worse for the wear after suffering twenty years in her own darkness after the loss of their first son. She had been strong and now, she needed him more than ever.

  Bobby Ray squeezed Ryanne’s hand. “Thanks for the reminder,” he said as he walked away.

  Grandma Patsy sat there watching Ryanne as she put the car into gear. “And away we go Ms. Patsy,” she said as they drove down Blakemore Lane, making the right onto Blakemore Boulevard and heading into town.

  It wasn’t an awkward silence as they drove because Ryanne filled in the empty spots with stories of her and Odessa growing up. She told Grandma Patsy about all the trouble Kevin Jr, their younger brother, would get into and how he was prone to accidents and mishaps. A few times, she spotted the old lady smiling.

  Inside the bank, the employees were somehow aware that Austin and Robbie had been born and offered congratulations to Ms. Patsy as well as Ryanne.

  “Please let Mrs. Blakemore know that whenever she is ready to set up the accounts for the kids, we are here to lend her a hand,” Harold, the bank manager told her. “I will also happily handle your assets as well.”

  Ryanne didn’t know what he was talking about. The only asset she had was the blood money from the life insurance policies Dwight had taken out. Although he had taken out a million dollars on her, he took out only half a million on himself. She had enough to live on for a while, or at least until she decided what was next in her life. What was next in her immediate life was two large cans of tomato sauce and some brown sugar, which she secured while Grandma Patsy took care of her transactions.

  The ride back started quietly with Ryanne having no more stories to fill the gaps on the thirty minute drive back to the Busy B. To her surprise, Patsy had a lot to say.

  “I see you are really good at reading people and taking care of others. It is time for you to take care of yourself,” she told Ryanne.

  “I’m sorry Ms. Patsy, I don’t understand,” Ryanne said softly.

  “You understand just fine. You didn’t read that man wrong. You read your late husband wrong, a little too late, but you married him for the wrong reason anyway,” she said.

  Ryanne was still unclear. “I am not comprehending.”

  Grandma Patsy turned in the seat. “Stop playing dumb. You have enough degrees and education to understand what I am saying. You owe it to yourself to find out if there is something between you and that man. He intentionally did not hurt this family and it was because of something you did and said to him. You touched something in him like you do with everyone you are around. You need to go and find out if it is real.”

  “But he lives in another country...” she said.

  “So what? Here!” She shoved an envelope at Ryanne.

  “What is this?”

  “You’ll see,” Patsy told her as the car turned into the drive of the Busy B. Once parked in the garage, Ryanne opened the envelope to find a check made out to her for $250,000.

  “Ms. Patsy I can’t accept this...” she said in disbelief.

  “You can and you will. I am old. I have more money than I know what to do with and this house, this house has been in my family for nearly a century.” She paused and looked at the two story ranch house. “I hate this fucking house. It has been a prison for me all my life.”

  She tugged at the coat, trying to stave off a different kind of cold that was seeping into her old bones. “Men sniffed around me for years trying to get their hands on this house and land. This house will now belong to Austin once Lucy dies. Men will come from far and wide to try and possess her so they can possess this house and land. My husband tried to have both, and I never gave in to him,” she said solemnly.

  “I have always had my own money Ryanne and never the freedom to spend it the way I wanted to. I am giving you that check to spend it the way you want to...go see him, if it doesn’t work out, you have your own money to live as you see fit,” Patsy told her.

  Ryanne killed the engine and rounded the vehicle to help Grandma Patsy out of the car. Arm and arm they walked back into the house. Something was bugging Ryanne that she needed to ask, “Ms. Patsy...did you love your husband?”

  To her surprise, there was no hesitation on Patsy’s part. “No, I did not. After I conceived Lucy, I never let the man touch me again. He was a disgusting pig.”

  The look on Patsy’s face said something to Ryanne that no words would ever need to be spoken of. If she read her expression correctly, the untimely death of Louis Sterling may not have been an accident.

  “As a woman Ryanne, you have to decide how you want to love. It’s not just a matter of who...the execution is just as important as the loving. Falling in love means nothing if the person you love, does not love you back,” Patsy told her as she entered the back door.

  Ryanne took her words to heart. There was someone who needed some loving and she was planning to pay him a visit. How it would work out she was uncertain, but it sure beat sitting around watching other people enjoy their lives. She was ready to truly start living her own.

  Chapter 3. Ring dammit...

  February 27- Puente Piedra, Colombia

  Eduardo Delgado sat at his desk curiously staring at the large gla
ss container of chocolate kisses which had arrived on the 14th with a note that read, A bunch of chocolate kisses on this Valentine’s Day. He wasn’t sure what Valentine’s Day was and had to pull up the American holiday on an internet search engine to appreciate the significance of her gift. Two weeks had passed since the gift arrived and she still had not called back. His eyes went to the cell phone which sat on the corner of his desk.

  Ring dammit.

  He wanted to hear her voice. For Christmas, he had sent her a small gift and a cell phone for her to use to call him. She called on New Year’s Eve to wish him well for the upcoming year. This isn’t enough. She used the phone to call again to make certain he had received the container of bitter chocolate drops wrapped in little silver or gold tin foil. The ones in the gold wrappers were filled with some kind of nut. He too felt like a nut cased in a wrapper because he didn’t want these chocolate kisses, he wanted hers.

  Marianna, his assistant, watched him closely. “Seńor, is there anything I can get for you before I leave for the day?”

  “No. Enjoy your evening,” he told her as she slipped out the office door to head to her home.

  His eyes gazed at the phone, mentally willing it to ring. This is torture. He was two steps away from fueling his plane and heading to Texas to implement his initial idea of drugging Ryanne, throwing her over his shoulder and bringing her home with him. It vexed him to no end that she had managed to get so close, so fast and penetrate the wall that he had put up to keep his emotions at bay. One night with her and all sorts of feelings were overtaking his common sense. So much so, he even went to see her again before he left the continental US. I had to know if that night was real. Eduardo sat, forlorn, feeling almost a lovesick fool for wanting her so much.

  Ring dammit.

  The phone began to vibrate on the corner of the desk. Uncertain if it was his imagination, he grabbed the device, sliding his finger over the screen.

  “¡Buenas!” he said into the line.

  “Hello Eddie,” she said softly.

  He wanted to keep it light but in his head he wanted to yell at her for not being on a plane and coming to be with him. “¿Qué cuentas?”

  “Oh, nothing much. I was thinking of maybe coming for a visit. I was looking into airfares and was uncertain if I should fly into Bogotá or Medellín?”

  He was almost holding his breath at her words. “Neither. I will send my plane for you. What day did you desire to travel?” The question came out far more casually that it felt. In his head he was certain she could hear the rapid pounding of his heart, the shallowness of his breathing or the anxiousness that was threatening to surpass his good sense forcing him to blurt out everything he was rationalizing about the two of them starting a life together.

  Ryanne found herself grinning. “I was thinking next Friday. I mean, if that is okay?”

  Eduardo was okay with it, in more ways than one. “Yes, that is fine. Is there anything in particular you would like to see or do when you get here?”

  She was feeling bold with her answer, “Yes, you.”

  The sound of his voice was making her mind go into overdrive. She was remembering his touch, the feel of his breath upon her cheek, the way his lips felt upon her skin. Goose pimples popped up on her arms at the thought of the way he made love to her.

  He did not respond to her forwardness. The line was quiet and she swore she heard a cricket chirp in the background. She immediately regretted being so forward and common with her words over the phone. “I mean, I am coming to see you, to spend some time and get to know each other better...or even maybe go on a date, like you suggested. I don’t know...”

  “Go on a date...” he replied.

  “Maybe this is a bad idea. I’m sorry I called,” she said.

  “Ryanne,” he whispered her name softly. “I was sitting here staring at my phone willing you to call. I would love to take you on a date...amongst other things.”

  “Other things...” she said coyly. “Is there something in particular you would like to show me about your country when I arrive?”

  He lowered his voice an octave or two. “Yes, I am going to show you how a man loves a woman,” he told her.

  “Wow,” she said as her fingers curled around a lock of her hair. “How long should I plan to stay?”

  “Stay as long as your heart desires...my home is your home,” he said in the line.

  “Funny...mi casa es su casa,” she responded. “I have allocated a week; ten days maximum.” She was quiet. “I am looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “I as well Cariňa,” he said. “The plane will be at that airfield in Dallas on Friday at 11 am. It is nearly a six hour flight to my location. The pilots will only be on the tarmac for a half hour to refuel. Please don’t be late.”

  “I won’t miss it,” she told him.

  “Good. I will see you Friday evening,” he told her and hung up the phone.

  Ryanne was coming to visit.

  Eduardo looked about his office. He rose slowly and walked into the main foyer of his home, looking into the open space which fed into several rooms. He stood still, regarding the content of the each of rooms. There was nothing lavish about his dwelling. It held the basic necessities with products of quality, but nothing flashy. There were a few collectibles and art pieces that few recognized, but overall, his home was warm. He only hoped that it would be enough to make her want to stay.

  Shaking fingers ran across his forehead. There was so much to get done, and she was coming at an inopportune time. The cartel would be convening soon and he had to have answers on how to move the organization and businesses forward. Yet, he had no answers for how to move his relationship forward with a woman he had no business being with, let alone feeling as he did about her. What concerned him more than anything was the nagging feeling of her getting back on that plane to head home. He wasn’t sure how he would handle her boarding the aircraft and leaving him alone once more.

  The one thing in which he was certain, he was tired of being alone.

  March 3- Dallas, Texas

  Ryanne was still grinning as she opened her new leather luggage on the guest room bed to start packing. Although she had been living in Odessa and Saxton’s home since the New Year, sleeping in the master bedroom felt kind of creepy. If she decided to keep the house and live in it permanently, the first thing she was going to do was get a new bedroom set. The idea that her sister and Saxton had created the twins in that bed doubly emphasized her lack of desire to ever sleep there, which is why she was still using the guest room.

  As she began to remove the tags from the lingerie she purchased, she burst into laughter. Before leaving Houston, in her head a girl’s day out sounded fantastic, so she approached Ms. Patsy with her wonderful idea. The grand dame didn’t think it sounded too fantastic at all.

  “Ms. Patsy, I am headed to the Galleria in Houston to spend some of this money you gave me on some expensive lingerie. Would you like to come along?” Ryanne asked.

  The matriarch’s eyebrows didn’t even raise, as Grandma Patsy replied, “I give you a quarter of a million dollars and you want to spend it on pretty panties?”

  “Yes. I am going to blow a thousand dollars in La Perla and then I am heading to the spa for some landscaping along with a mani and pedi. I want to treat you as well to a girl’s day, get you out of this big, overly decorated house,” Ryanne said.

  “Landscaping?” Grandma Patsy asked.

  Ryanne’s hand encircled her groin area. “Yes, the hedges need some trimming.”

  The look on Grandma Patsy’s face made Ryanne nearly choke. The old lady’s next words actually made her chest congest. “You are going to pay some stranger to trim up your girl curls?”

  “Yes I am. You could probably use a few snips and clips yourself Ms. Patsy,” she said.

  “Hell, I need more than a vagina barber. I look like I have a grey haired farmer’s head locked in between my thighs,” Grandma Patsy said. Her eyes wandered to t
he ceiling as if she were remembering a fonder time.

  Ryanne fought back the laughter. “So I take it that is a yes?”

  “Hell no! All I use this thing for nowadays is to take a pee. I sure as hell don’t want some stranger down there with clippers, scissors or any damned thing else,” she said. As she started down the hall she was muttering, “You young people. What in the hell kind of weirdo wants to be a professional coochie shaver? I know I wouldn’t trust them...”

  That was enough to make Ryanne second guess her decision for the waxing, so she opted instead to do it herself. She even cut a cute little heart into the hedges and admired it in the mirror. She had never felt this excited about seeing a man in her entire life, but Eduardo was not your typical man.

  In the bathroom mirror she took a good look at her body. She had never been one to work out and was grateful for the good genes of her mother. Naturally slim, chemically untreated shoulder length hair, and a great metabolism, she ate what she liked but there was no mistaking the small pooch growing at the base of her abdomen. There was really nothing she could do about it now. In two days she would be on a plane headed to Colombia, which reminded her to head to her parents to collect her passport.

  Common sense should have told her to wait until they were either gone or napping. But that just was not Ryanne’s way. She was honest to a fault and she needed her parents to know where she was going.

  Big Sarge was convinced the only place she was headed was to an early grave.

  Chapter 4. But he is a killer...

  “Are you out of your damned mind?” Big Sarge yelled at her. “You are going to go where and see who?” he asked her again.

  The limp in his walk was now more pronounced as well as the pain which emoted on his face each time he took a step. Ryanne understood the drinking was to counteract the pain of the hip which desperately needed to be replaced, but Big Sarge was having no part of undergoing surgery. The shrapnel in his side was an indicator of how little he trusted doctors which is why the metal shards had never been removed from his ribcage after his tour in Vietnam.