Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Steele braced himself.

  Coyote slammed his head backward—head-butting Bruja. She grunted, and her hold on him loosened. Then he slammed an elbow into her breasts, and she released him.

  Coyote pitched forward, and Steele caught him before he hit the floor. “I got you, brother.”

  Bruja dashed for the door, and Ash was right on her heels. Ten ran after them.

  Steele looped an arm around Coyote’s waist and escorted him back to the couch, which he sank down onto gratefully. It was only then he noticed three more dead Raptors lying face-down in the corner of the room.

  Beauregard stepped over two bodies and fished through a discarded trash bag until he came up with a brick of heroin. “How thoughtful. They loaded up our cargo for us.”

  Ignoring the mobster, Steele carefully peeled the duct tape from Coyote’s mouth while Ace sliced into the tape around his wrists. Coyote flinched as the knife pressed against his skin. No telling what horrors Yo had seen the past few days.

  “You okay, brother?” Steele knelt at Coyote’s feet—staring up into his bruised and beaten face.

  “Well, I’m a couple fingers away from bein’ Captain Hook, but I’ll live.” Coyote held up his bandaged hand.

  Steele hung his head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been payin’ more attention. If I had, then you wouldn’t—”

  Coyote shook his head. “Don’t…just don’t.”

  Ace clasped Yo’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay. Duke will fix you up. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

  Steele watched Coyote’s guarded features. He seriously doubted Coyote would ever be the same again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Sit down.”

  Ash pointed to a wingback chair in the living room. She’d caught up with Bruja outside and hauled her back inside at gunpoint.

  Bruja ran palms along her faded skinny jeans and sat down in the chair. She kept her back ramrod straight and fixed Ash with a dirty look.

  With the exception of Bruja, no one was paying her much attention.

  Ten stayed outside with the heroin shipment while Beauregard gathered up the remaining drugs into a trash bag. The mobsters didn’t know it yet, but Ash intended to seize it and turn it over to the DEA along with the witchy cartel lady…assuming Bruja cooperated.

  Steele and Ace fussed over Coyote.

  Ash still couldn’t believe Steele had offered himself up as a hostage. What if she’d been wrong about him all along?

  He’d been so brave, so selfless.

  But she couldn’t think about Steele’s sacrifice right now.

  She had to keep her eyes on the prize. If Bruja cooperated with the DEA, it would be a major coup—if Ash didn’t kill the bitch.

  “How dare you speak me to this way?”

  “Shut it, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Bruja clamped her mouth shut.

  “You’re used to bein’ in control, aren’t you?” Ash gestured with the gun, and it shook a bit in her grip—not from fear, but from desire. “You got two options available—come with me and tell the DEA every damn thing they wanna know about Tres Erre—and I do mean everythin’ so they can dismantle your operation piece by piece. The cartel won’t sell an ounce of drugs in the states again.”

  “I’ll never talk. I’m—”

  “I said shut up. You’re in our jurisdiction, which means you’re subject to our rules and regs. Not to mention…” Ash kicked Hairy Mole in the back. “You’re fresh out of thugs, honey.”

  “Except for that other squad.”

  Ash crouched down so they were at eye level. “And I’m bettin’ you’re late checkin’ in with your crew. Cartel folks aren’t overly loyal. Y’all are killin’ each other all the time. Somethin’ tells me they’ll be headin’ for the border any minute now.”

  “Maybe I will speak with your DEA.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  This had been easier than she’d thought. Kinda dissapointin’.

  “I will tell them how you worked with criminals. How you broke laws to get me into custody.”

  Ash stood. “Okay. Couple things I forgot to mention…I played Let’s Make a Deal with the other criminals, and I work for the DEA, but I’m not an officer as such. We’ve been losin’ the war on drugs for decades, and the agency finally did something about it. The DEA has a new GITMO model—so you’re subject to the laws. But you don’t have our protections. Ain’t that a bitch?”

  Bruja tossed her head back.

  “You see, we’ve been handin’ you guys over to the Mexican authorities only to find out later you’d bribed or threatened your way out of charges.”

  “What was the other option?”

  “Oh, right. To hear the other one, you’ve got to know a bit about me.”

  She turned her face away. “Spare me your sermons.”

  Ash slapped her across the face.

  “Eyes on me when I’m talkin’.”

  She could see her own fiery red handprint on the woman’s cheek. A sick and twisted side of Ash had woken up, and it was hungry for vengeance.

  “Like I said, you need some background information. I have…had…a brother named Abe. He was murdered in Afghanistan by the Taliban. All because of the heroin poppy trade. You know, the same kind of poison you get rich on.”

  She said nothing.

  “You don’t give a damn about my pain or misery because you’re a sociopath and the only person you care about is yourself, so I’m gonna skip ahead to the point. I never got to hunt down his murderers. As far as I know, they weren’t punished for their crimes.” As she spoke, Ash circled Bruja. She lost awareness of anyone else in the room. Right now, it was just her and the cartel leader.

  When Ash faced her again, Bruja’s lips curled into a sneer.

  “Do you know what that’s like?”

  “No, and I don’t care. What’s this have to do with me?”

  “Pay attention. I’m comin’ to option two. If you don’t cooperate and tell the DEA about your operation, I’ll work out some of my issues with you. And I’ve had ten years to build this rage. I’m hopin’ you’ll choose door number two, because I’m dyin’ to put you in the ground.”

  “Killing me won’t bring your brother back.”

  “Of course not. Nothin’ will. Not this job or the fights I get into or…the other ways I cope with it.”

  That was a stark realization.

  She’d taken this job to do some good in Abe’s name, but what about the cost to her and her own sanity?

  “I tire of this game. Shoot me and be done with it.”

  “I said I wanna put you in the ground. And no, it ain’t a metaphor because that’s not what I’m gonna do.”

  Across the room, Steele made a sharp sound. He shook his head, eyes pleading with her.

  Ash deliberately turned her back.

  Bruja swallowed, and Ash could hear the sound.

  “I’m gonna bury you. Alive. And I don’t feel bad about it. You leave piles of body parts around to spook the locals, but I think a cold, dark hole is worse. I had to put Abe in the ground all by himself. Of course, my brother was dead, and you won’t be. You’ll be all alone slowly chokin’ to death, unable to see or hear anything.”

  Beauregard’s whistle broke the tense silence.

  “Damn, that’s cold. You could give me a run for my money.” At Ash’s look, he stepped back. “Right, sorry to interrupt. This is your show.”

  She turned her attention back to the prisoner.

  “So, what’s it gonna be, a long, excruciatin’ night of suffocation, or a stint as a star witness in a federal case? I’ll give you one minute to decide.”

  For the first time, Bruja looked scared.

  ***

  Two hours later, Ash sped down the highway as she listened to the GPS give robotic directions.

  Beauregard sat next to her in the passenger seat. The mobster’s eyes were closed, and he sat back in his seat. She kn
ew he hadn’t fallen asleep—his body hadn’t gone slack, and his breathing wasn’t even.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  She sure as hell didn’t feel like talking. And Beauregard was still pissed that she’d turned the drugs over as evidence, but she didn’t give a damn. Ash couldn’t let the heroin be sold on the streets.

  The Cole agents had taken Bruja into custody for transport to a federal facility. The woman wasn’t some underling who didn’t know squat about the operation. With her knowledge, the DEA might be able to bring down the cartel. Of course, another cartel would step into their place, but Ash tried not to think about it.

  Bruja’s willingness to cooperate made Ash strangely miserable.

  That, in turn, scared the bejeezus out of her.

  She’d been looking forward to torturing someone. How fucked up was that?

  Beauregard cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present.

  Before they’d gotten on the interstate, they’d rolled into a Starbucks and gotten cups of coffee for the road. She’d needed the jolt of caffeine to stay awake. It’d been a long couple of days.

  “Where did Ten go?” If she hadn’t been so drowsy, she’d have noticed the other mobster hadn’t climbed back into the car with them.

  “Said he had somewhere else to be.” Beauregard sipped his coffee.

  “Where? A double homicide?” she joked and then sobered instantly. “Tell me I wasn’t his wheelman.” The words accessory to murder flashed in her mind.

  “You mean accessory to another murder? Because you already played wheelman for a quadruple homicide.” Sarcasm dripped from Beauregard’s words.

  “That was different.” But was it?

  “Because you considered it to be justified? And here I thought you were different from the biker boys.”

  Ash ignored him and stuck with a safer subject. She couldn’t contemplate her own homicidal tendencies at the moment.

  “So you don’t know where he went?”

  “Ten ain’t much of a people person. You know the type—don’t socialize much, lives alone. It’s one of his quirks.”

  “Sounds like the Unabomber.”

  “Ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong, but he has a cat. That counts for somethin’, right?” He frowned. “Hmph, come to think of it, Ten likes cats more than people.”

  “He’s a crazy cat lady.”

  “Crazy cat gentleman.”

  They both laughed and then stopped abruptly—staring at one another.

  “Did we just share a moment?” Beauregard draped an arm over the back of her seat.

  “I have a gun.”

  He snatched it back.

  “Only bein’ sociable. Don’t read more into it.”

  “No, you were testin’ my boundaries.” The mobster deliberately pushed buttons to see what would happen.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m seein’ someone…more or less.”

  Ash glanced in her rearview mirror before she pulled into the passing lane.

  “More or less? You either are, or you aren’t—just like you can’t be a bit pregnant.”

  Beauregard ignored her tirade. “She’s a lawyer. Her name’s Jane.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “But you’re curious.”

  Damn him, he was right. Beauregard was dating an attorney? Didn’t it violate some sort of ethical code? But Ash left it alone. His love life was his own damn business. The less she knew, the better off she’d be.

  “You handled yourself pretty well in there.”

  Getting a compliment from a killer meant…well, not a damn thing in her book. Ash didn’t know what to say, so she focused on the blacktop ahead and drank her coffee.

  “I believe the proper response is ‘thank you.’ Unless you’d like to give me a compliment as well?”

  “This ain’t a buddy cop film. You and I won’t be makin’ friends, so let’s not even go there. I vote we keep our mouths shut for the duration of the trip. Deal?”

  “No deal. Where you off to next?”

  “Not sure.” Ash was anticipating a big fat check from Cole. She should’ve been on top of the world, but she wasn’t. In fact, she was contemplating turning in her resignation. Steele had been right about her job.

  “If you ever decide to get out of the merc business, you could work for me.”

  She nearly choked on the coffee.

  “Do you need the Heimlich? I’m happy to oblige.”

  Ash coughed it out and gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “I’d rather be the circus dude who cleans up after elephants than work for you.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “A big honkin’ no. I stay on the right side of the law.”

  “As a merc, I’d say you’re smack dab in the middle between right and wrong.”

  She shifted in her seat. Ash had seen a scary side of herself today, one she never wanted to unleash.

  “It don’t take much of a push to slide on over to the darker side. Trust me, the outfit pays well enough to ignore those pesky moral dilemmas.”

  “You have morals and ethics?”

  “Everyone does. Mine are a bit more flexible than most.”

  “I can’t do this job anymore.” She sighed. “It’s killin’ me.” Damn the road, something about the rhythmic motion of the drive and the tension release had loosened her tongue.

  “Like I said, I got an opening.”

  “Yeah, but you make my skin crawl.” Ash slid the car back in the far right lane and sped up. The sooner they got back to Hell, the better.

  “I have that effect on people.”

  “Besides, workin’ for you wouldn’t help my problem.”

  “Oh, Lord, you really are in an ethical quandary. I remember what those were like. Had some problems when I first started. But, believe me, the remorse stops eventually.”

  “When?”

  “When you’re dead inside.” He’d said the words teasingly, but there was an edge to his voice. “Of course, I’m assumin’ you don’t gotta natural knack for the work. Way I figure it, you’re born a genuine killer—psychopaths and such—or you get used to it.”

  “And which are you?” This was probably the strangest discussion she’d ever had, yet it was somehow helpful.

  “A lot of people would say I’m the former, but they don’t know me. I managed to escape my genetic predisposition as it were, so I had to work at it.”

  Confessions of a killer.

  “It’s not an option for me.”

  “Maybe you could get a job with the Horsemen. They fancy themselves vigilantes. I don’t split those kinda hairs, but it might sit better with your moral compass.”

  “They don’t let girls join their club. Besides, what makes you think I wanna stick around here?”

  Beauregard gave an exaggerated sigh. “I read people very well, so don’t lie to me. We both know you’re in love with Steele. And it goes both ways, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not in love with—”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “I don’t…love him.” Ash knew it didn’t sound the least bit convincing, but she said the words.

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m a stranger, so you don’t need to impress me with your tough-girl routine. I can see right through it.”

  “Why do you even care?” Ash was irritated he’d seen past all her bluster.

  “I don’t. I’m just passin’ the time. And I don’t believe in love. I like passion, seduction, flirtation. Love is more…volatile. But we aren’t talkin’ about me and my hang-ups, we’re talkin’ about you and yours…which is a lot more fun. So the real question is, what are you prepared to do about it?”

  Good question.

  Too bad I don’t got any answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Damn it!”

  The next morning, Steele heard cursing and shuffling sounds emanating from Inferno’s back hallway. He’d spent a couple hours down at the shooting range and h
eard the ruckus when he came back into the main area.

  He’d gotten to work early, hoping it would distract him from Ash’s departure. When he’d driven by Hades this morning, her SUV was gone. Steele tried not to think about Ash.

  He just needed to hold it together for a few hours. Tonight, moonshine would ease the pain. Maybe some easy company. But Steele doubted he’d ever be able to get it up again for a hellion.

  When Steele investigated the noise, he found Coyote halfway up a ladder, surrounded by a half-dozen boxes. One of them contained a shitload of comic books, and another was stuffed with Star Wars memorabilia. Steele wasn’t close enough to get a peek at the others.

  “What’s all this?” He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “I’m clearin’ the decks.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Why?”

  Yo turned his way. His face was swollen and bruised, and his hand was swathed in bandages. Steele had heard other veterans talk about phantom limb pain from missing arms and legs. He wondered if Coyote still felt like his fingers were attached.

  Coyote took another step up then gripped the edge of a poster frame with his good hand. He ripped it off the wall, and it slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor with a smash of glass.

  Everyone had ways of coping, and this seemed to be Coyote’s.

  “Why aren’t you home restin’ up?”

  “Don’t need rest. Duke gave me pain meds and antibiotics before he stitched up my stumps.” Coyote thrust his hand out, and while he’d wiggled the last two beneath the bandage, Steele got the impression he’d just been flipped the middle finger.

  “Why don’t you leave this for another day? I was thinkin’ we could go for breakfast at Hades. Afterward, we can watch that bug show you like so much.” Steele knew very well it was a space-western, but he wanted to get a rise out of Yo, shock him back to his senses.

  “You mean Firefly. And I can’t, I’m busy.” Yo climbed down the ladder, then started tossing action figures off a nearby shelf and into a box like they were trash.

  Okay, now Steele was worried.

  Under normal circumstances, Coyote would launch into a complicated Firefly explanation and its characters. And Coyote had once ripped Steele a new one for accidently knocking a figurine off a shelf.