by AJ Adams
I was paralysed, unable to move.
“We got a problem. Could you take a look at the Blackbird?” His voice was muffled and the door shut tight. He rattled the knob. “Hey, is this locked?”
The guard ran up, dog at his side, key in hand, and then the door was swinging open. My doom had finally arrived.
“Hi.” The Zetas eyes were guileless. “You okay?”
“Yes.” The sweat was streaming down my back, but I stood straight. Nobody would ever be able to say I went out squealing. “Let’s go.”
Quique had opened the garage doors and was switching on the lights while Kyle simply stood there. I wondered how they’d do it. Hopefully it would be fast and painless.
“So, what’s wrong with the bike?” My voice sounded fine, not shaky at all.
“I hit a sinkhole,” Kyle rumbled. “I was gunning it, and the road just fucking collapsed under me. Think I damaged a rim.”
“We were right behind him,” Quique added. “We hit it, too, and now there’s this weird rattle.”
I looked at the bike. It was splashed with mud, and I couldn’t see the rim under all the dirt. It was a nice touch. “Put it on the lift.” I wasn’t going to lie on the ground for them. I’d go out on my feet.
“I’ll do it.” Quique was jumping forward, leaving Kyle standing about.
“Chica?” Chumillo was behind me.
So it was his job to distract me so the other had a clear headshot. I swallowed, straightened my spine, and turned. “Go ahead.”
“Go ahead and do what?” Chumillo was frowning. “Hey, I was wondering, why was that door locked?”
“Yeah,” Quique added, “and you don’t look too good.”
Spots were dancing in front of my eyes. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.” That was Kyle, voice sharp. “Are you sick?”
Strong hands were on my elbows. Quique, saying, “Sit down. Catch your breath.”
I was sitting on the cement, knowing their concern was real. Hope and relief flooded through me. This wasn’t a hit.
“Get her some water,” Kyle ordered. Then he added apologetically, “Sorry, I can’t move too well. I got stabbed yesterday.”
That’s when I noticed the big bruises peeking out from under his shirtsleeves. “You’re hurt?”
“It’s a scratch.” The grin brought a sparkle to his eyes. “I’m just enjoying everyone waiting on me hand and foot.”
“Here,” Quique was pushing an iced water into my hands. “Chumillo is having a word with Leo.”
“Who?” My hands were shaking but my voice was rock steady.
“The chief halcone, the one with the dog,” Kyle rumbled. He didn’t even ask me anything but I knew he knew. “Chumillo will fix him,” he said. Then, apologetically, “We should’ve been round but something came up.”
“You were busy getting stabbed.”
That had them laughing. “Yeah!”
Pure relief had me on my feet again. “You were saying you hit a sinkhole?”
Kyle motioned to the bike. “Can you take a look?”
“Sure.” I was examining the rim when Chumillo came back. “This is definitely buckled. I can straighten it out so you can get it to the dealer, but you’ll have to take it easy.”
I was sliding under the Lexus when there was a crunch of gravel and the roar of an engine. I thought it was another Zeta, but then I saw Kyle moving back rapidly and pulling out a great big gun.
“You bastards.” Rip’s voice was arctic with rage. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Rip was back, and he was about to get blown away. I was out from under the Lexus in a flash. Kyle, Quique, and Chumillo had all drawn their guns, but Rip clearly didn’t care. His face was a rictus of snarling fury. For a horrible moment I thought he was going to throw himself right at them, when he stopped short.
He stared at me, open-mouthed, and then, before I could say a word, he pounced on me. “Morgan. Ohmigod, Morgan!” He was shaking like a leaf and completely oblivious to the Zetas who were standing down. “I thought they got you.” Cool, controlled Rip was babbling. “But you’re okay.”
I was hugging him right back, reassuring him without thinking, knowing he only needed the comfort. “I’m fine. Honest.”
He wasn’t letting go. “The guard outside has a black eye, and well, when I saw you on the ground, I thought they’d gotten through.” He stopped and hugged me again. “But you’re okay.”
At that, Chumillo was clearing his throat. “Erm, that black eye was from me.” He was looking apologetic. “The capullo had it coming, but it was my fault too, for not checking. We’ve had a busy few days, you see.” He might have explained, except it was clear Rip didn’t care.
I thought the Zetas would be pissed, but to my surprise, they were all grinning.
“Look, if it’s okay, I’ll leave the Blackbird here,” Kyle was saying.
“Yeah,” Quique agreed. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Erm,” Rip was realising he had an apology to make. “Sorry.”
I saw he was blanking out in that weird way of his when he should have been talking, but the Zetas were laughing.
“Jesus, Rip! Don’t apologise,” Chumillo said.
“Yeah. Just the thought of my Nats being hurt—” Quique couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Exactly.” Even silent Kyle was chatty. “Totally understandable, Rip. Forget about it.”
Then they were slapping him on the back and exiting, leaving us alone.
I’d been rehearsing what I’d say when we met again for days, but now I was dumbstruck. He was beautifully dressed as always, in a pale pink preppy shirt and black tailored slacks, but he looked exhausted. His face was white as a sheet, except for the dark rings around his eyes. He looked thinner too.
Without even thinking about it, I put my arms around him. “Rip, what’s going on? You look like shit.”
“Charming!”
He sounded his usual snarky sarcastic English self, but I sensed the turmoil underneath. I acted on instinct, pulling him in tightly. “You just ran off. I was worried.”
“I wouldn’t leave you helpless.”
That gave me the chills again. “Yeah, it got to me, but I guess I was wrong.”
“About?”
Suddenly I realised that we were talking at cross-purposes. “Just being around the Zetas gives me the shakes.”
“They won’t hurt you.” Rip was so out of it that he forgot to lie to me and told me the straight-up truth. “I’m sorry, Morgan. But it’s not just the cartels now that are after you. You’re on the hit list with the Bratva too.”
The Bratva. Crazy Russian mobsters numbering in the thousands whom even the cartels respected. Jesus, as if it couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Rip
She went sheet-white. “The Bratva? You mean, Russian mafia?”
That’s when I realised I’d been a complete fucking idiot. I should have kept my trap shut. I guess I was so fucked up from even thinking she was hurt that my brains just vanished into the ether.
“I’m not letting anyone get at you,” I told her.
A wave of guilt hit me. Morgan was shaking, so terrified of what might happen that she was hanging on to me.
“Come on.” I put an arm around her and took her into the kitchen. “Sit, Morgan.” Still on autopilot, I put on the kettle. Putting out the teapot, I reached for the sugar bowl and found it empty.
“We’re out.” The way Morgan said it made me pause. My girl was steel under silk, but now I was seeing her properly, I noted the tired eyes. She was a little pale, too, and it might have been my imagination, but she looked thinner.
Without quite knowing why, I looked in the fridge. It was almost empty. No eggs, no butter, and no milk. There was no bread in the cupboard, either. The shelf of tinned soup had taken a hit. Morgan must have been eating it for lunch and dinner. Now I was recalling that Chumillo had given the guard a black eye. He’d tried to
apologise, too, but I’d cut him off.
Red rage ran through me. “They were supposed to keep you safe, not lock you up and starve you to death. What the hell’s been happening here?”
Morgan shuffled a bit, “Well, I am Gulf and I guess, erm—”
I was out of the door before she could finish. The guard with the machine gun was just crossing the driveway. He took one look at me, turned around, and ran for it. It didn’t help him; I was on him in an instant.
“Wait. Joder! I can explain!”
“You can tell your fucking maker, mate.” He tried to fight but rage made me immune. When he punched me in the ribs, I took it and grabbed him by the neck. “You bastard!”
He tried to knee me, but I was ready for that, flowing out of the way and getting him a solid one in the gut. At that, he dropped the gun. He tried to hit me, but he couldn’t breathe.
“You’re dead.” I punched him again, and he fell to his knees. Then he was all mine. I set about taking him apart, systemically punching him in the gut, the ribs, and the balls. I wasn’t thinking at all, not even feeling a hint of power. All I felt was rage at the shit who’d made my girl suffer.
He was moaning, no longer attempting to defend himself, when I saw the other halcone running up, black eye shining and his dog at his side. To my horror, Morgan was rushing up too. She took one look at the Rottweiler, and then she was jumping back, plainly terrified.
I saw the beast begin to launch at her, and then I was dropping my prey and yelling, “Sentado!” Thank God for those video lessons. The dog was caught by surprise, sitting down instinctively, and by the time he realised he’d been caught out, I was between him and Morgan.
“Joder!” The handler was staring at his mate who was lying there, motionless. “Jesus, you killed him!”
“Hardly.” That’s when it occurred to me that putting down Zetas was probably not a good idea. “The lucky fuck’s still breathing.”
“Are you insane?” The dog man was standing about, whining, and not realising that it was only Morgan standing there that was keeping him from being next. “The jefe will do his nut!”
God knows what would have happened next if I’d had my way, but luckily Morgan stepped up. Another girl might have cried or fainted, but she was staring him down. “Damn right the jefe will do his nut. When he finds out you upset the man who saved his life, you’ll be lucky if you’re still breathing tomorrow.”
“You’re Gulf!”
Morgan was hanging on to my hand, holding me back from slaughtering him. “Right, and it’s no secret, is it? Maybe you think the jefe made a mistake to let me live here?”
It was as if she’d thrown a switch. The guard went white with horror. “No-no-no! I did no such thing!”
“Really?” Morgan said sweetly. “Shall we ask him to judge?”
At that point, the man at our feet rolled onto his side and threw up. The dog man took full advantage of the distraction, exclaiming, “Vincente! You okay?”
At that, Morgan was tugging my hand. “Come with me,” she mouthed quietly. She piloted me back to the house. “Leave them be,” she said.
Rage was still surging through me. Clearly I had made another one of my fatal errors. My plan to fit in had hidden my true self too much, causing the guards to mistake me for a soft target, and Morgan had suffered the price. I resolved to change that instantly. From now on, anyone who crossed me would suffer for it. And if they fucked with my girl, they’d pay for it in blood.
“You okay, Rip?”
She was concerned. For me! For a moment I could barely breathe. After all I’d put her through, she was standing there, frowning with worry. I had to protect her, to guard her from her enemies, and mine. But that would be a bitch because she was a prime target.
I felt as if the world was out to get her, and it made me shit scared for her. “You’ll follow orders. No arguing.”
“Yes, Rip.”
She needed a hundred percent cover, and they needed just a second to get to her. “No wandering off.”
“No, Rip.”
She was pale, the rings standing out under her eyes. Guilt rocketed through me. The words were sticking in my throat. I was scaring the crap out of her.
I hugged her, wrapping myself around her, determined to give her my all. “I’m a stupid bastard. I should have been here to look after you.”
While I was still shaking with rage, Morgan was calming down. I hugged her closely, but I wanted to kick myself up the arse. I’d taken on Morgan just thinking of how useful she’d be to me. Now I knew I had to set up house properly. Morgan needed to be surrounded by people she could trust.
I kissed her hair, taking in that fresh girlish scent that was uniquely hers. “I’ll kick these fuckers out and hire new people.”
At that, she shook her head. “That would infuriate Arturo and set all the Zetas against you.”
She was cartel through and through, so her point was worth considering. I had to think it over, though. If I were Arturo, all-powerful cartel boss, what would my take be on this? “Right. It would say I don’t trust them.”
“Exactly,” Morgan agreed. Those slate-coloured eyes were speculative. “You know, Rip, for a hit man, you’re really not clued into the cartel.”
“I know,” I heard myself confess. “I don’t fit.”
Unbelievable, right? I should have been reassuring her, letting her know that I would keep her safe instead of whining on like a goddamn loser. Before I could get it together, my phone rang.
“Rip, I just heard.” Unlike his usual buoyant self, Arturo was snarling. The jefe was clearly hopping. “What a fucking mess.”
“Yes.” I was remembering the rules we’d agreed on. I’d not killed the guard, but it was occurring to me that putting him down might not be popular. “It’s been a lively morning.”
At that, Morgan was moving in close, clearly eavesdropping. I was going to push her away, but she was shaking like a leaf. Without thinking about it, I had my arm around her.
“Quique reported,” Arturo was growling angrily. “I can’t apologise enough, Rip.”
That was a relief.
“I said I’d keep Morgan safe,” Arturo fumed. “I’m ashamed this happened.”
Now I was in dangerous waters. The plan had been to focus on the positive. With asking to keep Morgan, and having Sokolov coming after me, never mind the damn Bratva, the Zeta boss might be seeing me as a problem. Huddled in my arm, Morgan was shivering too.
“I’m replacing the fucking lot of them.” Arturo was clearly on the warpath. “But it’s going to take a day to organise.”
“Of course.” I was remembering Morgan’s take on this. “I trust you completely, Arturo.” At that she was putting an arm around me and nodding vigorously.
“I’m so glad to hear that, my friend.” There was a pause, and I could hear chat in the background. From the rumble, it sounded like Kyle. “Look,” Arturo said. “Come over and see me. We need to discuss this properly.”
“Morgan is still upset—”
I was about to put him off when she yanked the phone away, covered it with her hand and hissed, “Are you insane? You don’t refuse the jefe.” Then she shoved it back at me, mouthing, “Say yes, dumbass!”
“...and of course bring Morgan,” Arturo was saying.
So I found myself agreeing, “We’re on our way.”
The second I hung up, Morgan was darting about. “Thank God I washed my hair and did my reports. Go and change your shirt.”
“What?”
“You’ve got blood all over you,” Morgan called back as she disappeared into the garden. “Hurry up! You don’t keep the boss waiting.”
Quite how it happened I’ll never know, but less than ten minutes later we were driving down the road with me trying to prepare for what was bound to be a difficult meeting and Morgan lecturing me while she was messing about with a bag of fruit. “If Solitaire is there, say something nice to her.”
“I’ll be sure t
o compliment both her faces.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “She’s the jefe’s girlfriend. She’s also sponsoring me. We need to show her we’re grateful.”
I didn’t like the frosty cow, but it made sense. “All right.”
“For God’s sake don’t beat up anyone you meet at the jefe’s,” Morgan was worrying. “Be total ice, okay?”
That was a bit much. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“I know.” Morgan put a hand on my arm. “It’s just that you’re a little bit overprotective of me.”
“Nonsense.”
Morgan had clearly gone round the bend. A hot flush of shame possessed me as I remembered how I’d threatened her. I still hadn’t apologised. I wanted to, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“You’re not overprotective?” Morgan was laughing. “You got back less than an hour ago and almost got yourself shot. Then you went straight out and beat the crap out of an armed guard.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.” Morgan mimicked. But then she was looking serious. “That halcone Vincente might be one of the jefe’s best people.”
If he were, that might be trouble. Or rather, more trouble. I was putting myself in Arturo’s place, thinking it all through.
“If the jefe is pissed, say you were overcome by rage and then crawl.” Morgan was way ahead of me. “If he’s not, then you can do some mouthing off about how you won’t have anyone dissing your girl.”
I had just come to that conclusion myself, so I was nodding.
“People won’t like me,” Morgan continued. “We have to underline that I’m grateful to be here.”
“Why the fuck should you be grateful?”
“Because I’m their enemy,” Morgan said patiently.
“Rubbish. You’re an innocent in all of this.”
It hurt just to say it. Black gall washed over me again.
But Morgan shook her head. “Be sensible, Rip. There’s too much history at work here.”
“I get it.” But I didn’t like it.
“You took me in, so they’ll think your loyalty is suspect too.”