“It’s not nearly that cut and dry, babe. They can catch him on their own and they don’t need Fernando’s help in that regard. Eve made it clear enough they weren’t sure what would happen as far as he was concerned. Obviously, they’re watching his movements but aren’t goin’ in ’cause he’s not worth it—not right now at least.” Ronan paused as he lit a cigarette and dragged from it hungrily. “What they want is Fernando. All his intel, his computers, the network—everything.”
My fingers pressed against my temples and I tried to think through the haze of early-morning booze. “I’m the only one who can get that intel.”
“‘Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves,’ or whatever the fuck that passage in the Bible says.” He pressed his forehead against mine and I could smell the mélange of cologne, cigarettes and leather on his skin. “What the fuck makes you think I’m gonna let you go out there and get what they need? You fuckin’ die on me and I got nothin’ left. You’re my world—my everything—and yet, they lose nothin’. What am I supposed to do without you, Nomes?”
The tears fell from my eyes despite my best effort to stop them. I was supposed to be strong for the both of us because I knew nothing would happen to me. Fernando would never hurt me because he was still in love with me. If anything were to happen, I’d lose Ronan—and so would the club—not the other way around.
Could I honestly live with myself with his blood on my hands? All because I fell for a megalomaniac psycho at the age of seventeen and couldn’t seem to get rid of him once and for all?
“What choice do we have?” I whispered against his lips. “We can’t run. We can’t hide. I want the Feds out of our life—well, as much as we can get rid of them and . . . I don’t want to be an Agent anymore. They’re using it against me. If I don’t comply, it’s not as simple as getting fired from a job, honey. They could charge me with aiding and abetting, trade secret violations . . . the list goes on and on.”
“So I got no fuckin’ say in what happens to you?”
“Not this time.” I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. “Not if we want our happy ending. It’s just how it is, babe. What can we do?”
Ronan stepped back and dragged from his cigarette again. “I’ll tell ya what we can do. I go Nomad. Step down and we just fucking keep driving. We got clubs we know, favors we can do. There are always losers to take out, and shit that needs to be handled under the radar. That’s what we do—we live under the radar for a few years. Shit’ll blow over and we can come back.”
“Baby, that’s not how it works, not with the Feds on our ass—”
“Listen, in twelve hours, we can both have passports. We’ll leave the country. We got chapters in Germany and we can work there for a while. Live in Europe, get married, sprechen some fuckin’ Deutsch . . . have kids. We don’t need to be here. We aren’t tied to the States, babe.”
“Mierda, no estás jodiendo escucha! There is nowhere to run. I. Have. No. Place. To. Go.”
My old man stepped back from me. “Holy Christ on the cross. Since when do you know fluent Spanish? I am fuckin’ listenin’ to you by the way and I’m tellin’ you we don’t gotta be here to watch all this shit go down. I’m not losin’ you to some fucked up Fed case they can make on their own.”
“One of the secrets Eve didn’t inform you about. I’m half-Mexican, Ronan. Both of my grandfathers come from Baja California. I didn’t know my maternal grandfather all that well but my paternal grandfather was around a lot. When my mom died, Dad lost it for a while and I was sent to Ensenada for a couple years. I finished my schooling there—graduated high school at sixteen and then I came back to the States,” I explained, trying to swallow the lump in my throat that refused to dislodge itself.
“Ensenada . . . don’t Aztecas Infierno have routes and ports there?”
I nodded. “My grandfather owned a boat. It wasn’t a huge boat but he did favors for the cartel to keep the peace. I was his only grandchild and he didn’t want anything to happen to me.”
“You know Fernando in more than just a professional way, don’t you?” Ronan’s face slowly drained of color. “Did he fuck you?”
“No!” I exclaimed, shaking my head fervently.
Yes.
He fucked me. His cock has been in every hole on my body. I’ve sucked him off and he’s eaten me out. He’s had me in public, private and everywhere in between. Everyone in the cartel knows and so do the Feds. Everyone knows except you.
If I could have, I would have removed my brain and bleached it clean just to make the images go away. And the lies I kept telling because God knows if anyone couldn’t handle the truth, it was Ronan.
He would have murdered Fernando on principle alone just because he knew my body intimately.
“Is that what this is about? He finally wants what he didn’t get back then?” Ronan shook his head as he held up his hands. “What kind of joke do I look like to you? Do you honestly think I am gonna send you to that meeting now? What? So he can put a bullet in my brain and abduct you to live out some secret fantasy he’s been dreamin’ about for God knows how long?”
“Are you under some mistaken impression we have a choice?” I asked facetiously.
He smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nomes. There’s always a choice. We can do it your way but I seriously thought you valued my life more than that. I thought us being together was the most important part of what we had. Obviously, I was wrong.”
My heart broke in two as he walked away. I wandered toward a row of picnic tables and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity before Hardy sat beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“Did you tell him?”
“Yes and no.”
“Jesus, Naomi—between you and Talia—you birds are gonna be the death of me.”
“You didn’t see his face when he asked me if I’d been intimate with Fernando? He would have gone ballistic.”
“Oh and what if your precious Nando blurts out the truth tonight? What do you think is gonna happen then? He’ll hate you because you lied to him when he gave you every opportunity to tell him the truth!”
“You—of all people—know how complicated this shit can get.”
“Yeah, I do.” Hardy’s crystal blue eyes glared at me for so long, I finally faced him. “The problem is Talia never hid anythin’ from me. I went into the situation with my eyes wide fuckin’ open. Kaelan’s a loser and a fuckin’ muppet. He wants to play rock star and string two women along—let him . . . but his time’s almost up. He’s got no fuckin’ options because he blew ’em. You wanna be like him?”
“I tried to tell him—I swear to God I did but—”
“Try harder. Or let him go. You got one week . . . and then I’ll tell him. Neither of us want that, darlin’, but he’s got a right to know. There’s been too many lies told already. For once, just tell the fuckin’ truth.”
He stood and walked away, leaving me to wallow in my own self-pity and loathing.
There was nothing about the meeting that convinced me it would go smoothly at all.
First of all, it was taking place in a small, abandoned “chop shop” surrounded by other nefarious looking businesses in a rough part of town known as Little Tijuana. The whole area was run down and although the place teemed with activity—people loitering about; low riders cruising down the street pumping Tejano hip-hop; couples screaming, fighting and fucking; babies crying—it made me feel less safe than more so.
None of these passers-by would ever be potential witnesses—mostly because they would never come forward to begin with even if they did see or hear something savory go down.
From the moment I climbed on the back of Ronan’s Harley, my gut churned with a feeling so overwhelmingly awful, I suddenly felt nauseous.
He tried to reassure me everything would be fine but who were we kidding? He could barely stand the thought I’d known Fernando long before my DEA days let alone stomach the idea of us being across from one anot
her that night. It didn’t matter the Saints had better odds—we were taking more guys to meet the members of Aztecas Infierno than they were bringing.
I knew this by instinct alone.
Fernando feared little in life and the threat of death was not a motivational tool that could scare him. He was too cocky and much too confident in his own abilities of self-preservation. He always knew he’d die another day but that night wouldn’t be it and it sure as hell wouldn’t be at the hands of some two-bit biker.
I hated how well I still understood him as a person. The whole issue of our affair and what happened between us still felt like the ultimate betrayal. It mattered little to me that it all went down before Ronan and I got together as a couple. I still felt like a black-hearted bitch that was brought into his life for only one purpose and that was to make him feel pain.
The kind of ache Cillian had gone through after he lost Gisela and had to spend so many years with a skanky whore he never wanted or needed but would rather put up with than the alternative of being alone.
The same feeling of longing, betrayal and guilt Jaden—aka Kaelan—must have felt when he thought about how he was torn between his loyalty to Faith and the true love he felt for Talia.
The anguish Hardy experienced every day he woke up only to realize he wasn’t even a first choice but one Talia would make because it was the best decision for her child and herself—not to mention her career. How he must have hurt to think he was nothing but a spare because the situation between her and Jaden had been unattainable and she couldn’t stand to be on her own.
We all knew that kind of longing and guilt, even me.
Only mine didn’t come from a love lost but a love gained.
Deep down inside, I wasn’t good enough for Ronan. He may have had his faults and he was far from perfect but he didn’t deserve what I was about to put him through or the path he would be forced to choose regardless whatever wrongs were done to him tonight.
I wasn’t even worried about Hardy telling him about Fernando and me. Knowing my ex-lover, he was too machismo and proud not to show off by telling Ronan himself, if only to wind him up and make him think less clearly.
We weren’t dealing with a well-adjusted human being but a sociopath with the intent of destroying and annihilating everything he perceived to be in his way. My relationship—the beauty of Ronan and me—was over the moment I stepped off that Harley and faced off side-by-side with the Saints while Fernando glared at us with menace in his eyes and pure hatred in his heart.
He wanted to hurt me and he wanted his revenge. Before the end of the night, he would have both.
“Mi hermosa, why do you look so sad? This is a wonderful occasion . . . for me at least.” Fernando did a slow turn around, eyeing the three soldados he’d brought along with him. “Too bad it’s come to this but I want what’s mine and this piece of shit has had you for much too long.”
“What did you say to me?” Ronan questioned as he pulled out a Glock 21 Gen4—one of his favorite weapons—and my least favorite because I didn’t like that particular gun at all.
It had a serious jamming problem—Samuel L. Jackson had gotten that right in Jackie Brown. The nine-millimeter was almost the exact same weapon and superior to the .45 in every way possible.
I stretched out my arm and lowered Ronan’s. “Nando, is that why you called this meeting? So you could re-claim me? We both know that’s never gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Fernando pulled out his gun—a Smith & Wesson M&P nine-millimeter. He flicked the safety off and chambered a round. “How bad you want this bitch, white boy? You willin’ to die for her, esé? I’ll put a bullet in your head and still get what I want.”
Against the small of my back was nine-millimeter Luger. I’d promised it would be for an emergency situation only since it only held seven rounds plus one in the chamber. If this weren’t an emergency then what kind of situation would have qualified as one?
The man I loved was directly being threatened with death if he didn’t let me go. We both knew that wasn’t going to happen and there was no way I could live with Ronan’s blood on my hands.
I pulled out my weapon, unlatched the safety and shot Fernando in the shoulder. He dropped his gun as his men all pointed their weapons toward me.
“Stop! Don’t you dare fucking shoot her!” Fernando screamed in angry Spanish.
“It was a flesh wound. If I wanted to really tear through muscle and bone, I would have aimed a hell of lot better than that,” I responded in a cold voice.
“Sí, querida, entiendo que muy bien.” Fernando gripped his shoulder before his eyes flashed over my head and I turned in slow motion.
A sniper’s bullet was trained directly at the base of Hardy’s skull.
“What would I gain by murdering Ronan? You’d hate me and be a terror to live with. I want someone to worship me, not despise me. And you will thank me. You’ll get down on your knees when I tell you and you’ll suck my cock like a fucking Hoover because I allowed your gringo lover to live,” Fernando explained in a cool, calm voice that belied the seriousness of the subject.
“That shit is never gonna fuckin’ go down!” Ronan exclaimed but I grabbed his arm.
“There’s a gun trained on Hardy’s head right now. Don’t move a muscle toward him, babe.”
“Listen to your woman, amigo. If you even think about stepping toward me, your Prez is gonna be deader than disco, homes.” He lit a cigarillo and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. “We can do this shit the easy way or the hard way. The easy way . . . I’ll let you two stay in contact. It’s not like I want the bitch forever. Hell, I’ll even send you some clips of me fucking her in the ass so you have something to jerk off to while she’s gone.”
“And what do we get in return?” I dared to question.
Ronan’s eyes darted crazily around the room. I knew there was no way in hell he would make that kind of deal but it was better to play along than to do nothing at all.
“I’ll throw a few bones to the you and the Feds. Give you the juicy ones so you can do what you like. I know the Feds aren’t all that concerned about Carlito but what about the Saints? He’s got Lacey—Cricket’s sister and Brendan’s daughter. Don’t they want her back? Especially if they knew how unhappy she truly was living her life on the edge with Carlito?”
Hardy shook his head. “Get the fuck out. All of you! We need to discuss this as a group and we don’t like hanger-ons.”
Fernando smirked before he whistled to his men and strode confidently out of a side door, the three soldados close behind him.
Hardy breathed deeply before he lit a cigarette and dragged heavily from it. “I don’t like this fuckin’ plan at all—”
“I would think not!” Ronan hissed with uncontrolled, mounting anger. “This is my woman they are talking about? What if he wanted you to share Talia and take her for a ride? Would you be okay with that?”
Both Hardy and I looked at one another. “Poor word usage, Ronan? What the fuck do you think Hardy has been doing now with Talia in between him and Jaden? You’re not under the impression Jaden still isn’t fucking her, are you?”
“Thanks, Naomi. And since we’re on the subject of fucking, why don’t you tell Ronan you’ve already been there and done that? Whatever that prick does to her he’s already explored in the past. He popped all three cherries you had—front, back and with a nice juicy mouthful of cock. Think about the club, Ronan. Stop being so fuckin’ pig-headed!”
Ronan growled like an animal and I knew he was tempted to use his gun. How could he not be when my biggest and most awful secret had finally been revealed to him? Would he ever want to touch me again? Use his mouth intimately in places he thought were reserved only for him?
He wasn’t an inept person. He knew I wasn’t a virgin when we met but never in his wildest dreams could he have realized that I was as tainted and depraved as this shit situation we happened to be in at the moment.
He probably imagined my
first few boyfriends had been men of vanilla tastes who liked sex with the lights out in missionary position. I gave off that kind of vibe I’d never be caught dead with someone like Fernando let alone mixed up in a cartel as violent and notorious as Aztecas Infierno.
“Don’t . . .” I trailed off, my eyes glued to his violet-blue orbs. “I know how much you probably hate me right now but you can make me go through hell some other time. I’m willing to die another day . . . at your hands, my love. If it makes you feel better to squeeze the life out of a pathetic creature like me, I’ll let you do it. Hell, after Fernando’s done with me, it’s all I’ll be good for.” I tried to smile through the tears that fell from my eyes and blurred my vision. “Find another woman who is worthy of your love and affection—someone who will worship you the way you’ll love her. May she give you all the happiness your heart and hands can hold, mi amor.”
Ronan shook his head slowly before he grabbed me by the neck and kissed me ruthlessly, passionately—his tongue forcing its way between my slightly parted lips. “I can’t fuckin’ kill you. You coulda told me the whole cartel has had you and that would never happen. You’re not your past but you are my future. How can I just let you go with this . . . píosa cac? Ba mhaith liom mé féin a ól chun báis ceart anois . . . the thought of what he will do to you will drive me insane, Nomes.”
My heart didn’t just break—it fucking shattered into a million pieces. Imagining Ronan drunk, volatile and completely uncontrollable while Fernando had his fun with me and used me like his own personal blow-up sex doll come to life.
The tears—those fucking vultures full of pity and helplessness—streamed down my cheeks and I softly kissed his lips again. “It’s just my body. He can do whatever he wants to do with me but he will never be able to reach here.” I grabbed his hand and placed it over my heart. “I belong to you always. Don’t you fucking dare fall apart over me . . . do what you do best. Tá bhfeice mise . . . a dhéanamh iad a íoc.”
Vengeance is yours . . . make them pay.
That was my final message to him before two of Fernando’s men strode back inside of the building and grabbed me roughly, separating us.
Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) Page 6