War (Wrong Book 4)

by Stevie J. Cole

  Gustavo makes his way back toward his truck and snaps his fingers. The doors to that truck fly open and several men file out. They don't say a word as they pass us by. They simply climb into the truck and start unloading the shipment, carting the sharks over to the back of the other truck.

  "You know, since we stole this money, surely we should keep it?" Tor whispers to me, her eyes dropping to the gut covered bag in my hand.

  I drag a palm down my face and shake my head. "Who are you?"

  "Look, I didn't see Gabe having his tits groped for this shit." I look at her and she shrugs one shoulder. "Finders keepers and all that."

  "Jesus, woman. Jésus' Hummer's yours. Now, this money."

  She's silent for a moment. "I mean, I had to kill for that Hummer, and the money, so..."

  "Wow, and here I thought I ruined your innocent ass..."

  "You know, sometimes you really disappoint me," she says. All I can do is stare at her.

  Gravel crunches behind us and I turn around to see Marney pull into the lot. He hangs his head out the window and grins. "You two love birds need a ride?"

  Tor snatches the bag from my hand and walks off, climbing into the passenger side of Marney’s car.

  Marney scowls at me as I walk toward the car. "Why ain't you got no shirt on, boy?"

  "Did you see what she was wearing?" I ask as I yank the door open. "Ass on full fucking display!"

  "No need to be so damn grumpy, Romeo," he chuckles.

  "No chance of that," Tor mumbles.

  I settle into the backseat and light a cigarette. Marney pulls off and I stare out the window. How much money did we just take? How much of a hit will that be for the Sinaloa? How fucking long, how many raids will it take until we can overthrow them and make Ronan happy?

  How much longer until my little girl is out of danger? Danger from the f Russian and the danger being related to me causes...

  29

  Tor

  I sit on the massive guest bed at Gabe’s house, drying my hair. I felt like the stench of death was clinging to me after today's events. Something starts rattling in the bedside table and I open it to see the burner phone Ronan gave me vibrating. I snatch it out of the drawer and answer it. "Hello?"

  "Ah, Victoria. How are you?" As soon as I hear Ronan's voice, anger washes over me.

  "Fuck you, Ronan."

  He laughs. "Feisty as ever I see. I have a weakness for feisty women, Victoria." I say nothing because the only words I want to say to him aren't particularly pleasant. "You and the American have been doing well. I think you may truly be able to destroy the Sinaloa," he says like an excited child.

  "I want to talk to Cayla," I say on a growl.

  "That is why I called." He sighs. "To let you know that I am pleased with your progress and the little one is safe."

  "She's with you, Ronan. She's not safe."

  "I would not hurt a child," he says, his voice laced with disgust. "Here..." There's a rustling.

  "Ronan?" More rustling. "Ronan?"

  "Tor?" A female voice comes over the line.

  "Camilla?"

  "I have Cayla. Say hello bonita angél. It's your Madre." My chest squeezes tight and a lump lodges in my throat.

  "Momma," Cayla says, and I swallow back the rush of tears that sting my eyes.

  "Hey, baby," I say through my tightening throat. "I miss you."

  "Miss you," she says. I press my hand over my chest, rubbing at the deep-seated ache there. God, this is hard and horrible. I have done things and become a person I don't want to be, all to protect her, but when I hear her voice, I know I'd do it all ten times over just to hear those innocent words.

  "Are you having fun with Miss Camilla?" I don't want her to be scared, to think that we left her. It's best if she just thinks she's staying with Camilla, her friend.

  "Mm-hmm, we play Barbies, and…and…dollies."

  I press my hand over my mouth. "That's nice."

  "I miss you, Momma..." I hear the waiver in her voice. "I want you. I want you, Momma."

  I sniff back tears and walk out of the bedroom. "I miss you too, so much." I walk along the hall and down the stairs, looking for Jude. "What are you doing today?"

  "Don’t know."

  I glance into Gabe's office and see Jude and Gabe both bent over the desk. "Do you want to talk to Daddy?" I ask. Jude's head snaps up, his eyes landing on me then the phone.

  "Uh-huh."

  "Okay. I love you, baby girl."

  Jude walks over, holding his hand out.

  "Love you," she says, her little voice barely wrapping around the words. I swipe at my tears and force myself to let go because I don't know how long it will be before Ronan takes the phone off her.

  I hand the phone to Jude and he presses it to his ear. "Hey, little doll," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. I watch his face, the raw emotion wrinkling across his brow, and it breaks me.

  "You have?" He pauses and lets out a hard breath. "I miss you, too, and I love you so much, Cayla. Daddy loves you so, so much." His eyes open and lock on me. "I promise, we'll get you really soon." He covers his mouth with his hand, fighting the emotion. Jude has always been a hard man, but for Cayla he's completely weak. "I love you, baby." He waits before he hangs up the phone and walks to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a hard embrace.

  His muscles are tense and he's holding me like he's afraid if he lets me go, he'll lose me. I bury my face in his chest and let my tears soak his shirt. He rests his chin in the crook of my neck and takes a shuddering breath. Loss and desperation swirl around us like an angry storm, and if it weren't for the possibility that we may be able to get her out of this, I'm certain we would just give up. But we can't.

  I hear Gabe quietly walk past us and close the door. Jude strokes his hand over my hair and presses his lips against my forehead. Tears silently track down my cheeks. It just hurts so much.

  "Sorry," I whisper, pulling away from him. He swipes his thumbs under my eyes and stares down at me, his brows pulled together on a frown.

  "She'll be okay," he breathes against my hair.

  "Promise?"

  He takes a deep breath. "I can't promise anything anymore, doll."

  I nod, resigned to the helplessness that has been drowning us ever since Cayla was first taken. "What do we do now?"

  "Keep going until they break."

  I stare into the murky green depths of his eyes. "How many trucks of money do they have to lose before they break?"

  "I don't know."

  "It will take too long, Jude.” I sigh and drag a hand through my hair. “We don't have enough man power for this."

  There's a moment of silence, a moment where I feel him tense. "What the fuck else do you want me to do, Tor?"

  I close my eyes. Gabe won't get involved in stealing money. Shoot everyone and piss on their bodies; sure, but taking money... Apparently there is honour amongst thieves. "Why does it always feel like the entire world wants to take a shit on us?" I press my forehead to his chest. Ever since I met Jude, life has always been this fight. Even when we had peace, there was that looming sense of danger that everything could come crashing down at any time, and it did. Only this time, I wasn't Jude's only weakness.

  30

  Jude

  Three Weeks later

  The tires squeal and lose traction as I take a hard turn. Three weeks of this shit. Three weeks of setting traps, of sneaking in and stealing money, drugs. Killing people. And I think this last raid may just bring the Sinaloa to their breaking point. If this doesn't make them willing to discuss terms, I don't know what will.

  Marney holds his hand over his ear. Blood trickles through his fingers. "Fucking hell, took a chunk outta my lobe." He cackles. "What a piss poor shot."

  "You're lucky he didn't blow your head off."

  "Meh..." He pulls his blood-covered hand away from his ear and stares at it.

  I check the rearview and see one last car come out of nowhere, the engine gr
owling. "Aw, hell. Come on now, boys," Marney says as he loads his gun and turns in his seat. "Go fuck yourselves." He pulls the trigger, and the explosions from the gun vibrate through my skull. Tires squeal. I watch in the mirror as the car veers off the road and slams into the side of an abandoned building before it explodes into a ball of fire. "They sure got some pussies enlisted in their regime."

  I glance at him. "Regime?"

  "What the hell else do you call this shit?"

  "It's the cartel, Marney."

  He grumbles something as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. The windows are all smashed, the hood is riddled with bullet holes. The fact that Marney only had a bullet graze his ear is a fucking miracle. I floor the accelerator and speed down the road, the wind blowing through the inside of the car. Money flies lose from the bags piled in the back, swirling around the inside of the car before escaping out the windows. "Now," Marney says, "this makes me feel like a real criminal."

  "You're fucked up old man."

  He shrugs, and I turn down the road that leads to Gabe's drive. The car bumps over a pothole and I hear something fall from the back followed by a scrapping sound.

  “Well, there goes the bumper,” Marney says.

  We pull through the gate and park the car, and as soon as I'm in the door, Tor's there.

  "How did it go?" she asks, frowning when her gaze drifts over to Marney. She grabs his chin, tilts his head, and inspects his ear before he yanks away and walks off grumbling.

  "Fine."

  "So when are we leaving for New Mexico?" she says to me.

  "I'm leaving tonight."

  "Jude..."

  Dear god, give me strength. I’ve set up a meeting with Blowback, one of the biggest American coke suppliers the Sinaloa have. And I’m going to make him a deal he can’t resist, leaving the Sinaloa without any product to push through. Tor is not going with me to meet a guy named Blowback.

  I walk past her, heading straight for the stairs. Of course she follows me, and then I think, do I really want to leave her here without me? I don't want her out of my sight, out of my protection. Sighing, I walk down the hall and into the bedroom.

  She sits on the edge of the bed and scowls at me as I pull my shirt over my head. Her eyes drop to my chest for a moment. "Jude..." she starts.

  "Tor..." I crack a smile before I toss my shirt at her.

  "Gross. You smell of sweat and blood," she says, throwing the shirt to the side.

  "You like it." I stalk toward her, grabbing her waist before I lean down and scrape my teeth over her neck. She tilts her head to the side, pulling at my hair and tugging me closer. I nip at her ear, tracing my tongue over her skin.

  "I love you," I whisper.

  "I love you, too." She turns her head, pressing her lips over mine before pulling back. "But I'm still coming with you." She kisses me once more before she pushes off the bed with a smug fucking smile on her face.

  "Jesus, woman."

  She walks into the bathroom, dropping clothes on her way. "Are you coming?" she calls from the doorway. I get up and follow her inside.

  "I guess I better get all nice and clean for Mr. Blowback, huh?" I watch her ass when she steps into the shower and turns the water on.

  "Yeah, I'm so thrilled about you going off on your own to meet a guy called 'Blowback'."

  "Aw," I wink at her when I drop my pants, "you're jealous?"

  She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's it, Jude. Like I said, the gang bangers will love you, and with a name like Blowback..."

  I step into the shower and close the glass door. "Fine, you can go, but only because I don't want to leave you here by yourself."

  She rolls her eyes before throwing her head back to wet her hair. "You're so romantic."

  "But you aren't going to the meeting with me." I step into the stream of hot water and lean my head back. When I look back at her, she's got her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me. "What?"

  "Always with the underestimating." Shaking her head, she shoves me out of the spray.

  "Look, he's a huge supplier to the Sinaloa and his name is fucking Blowback."

  "And?" She shrugs, her full tits slightly bouncing and giving me a soft long.

  "Jesus, woman. He said I had to come alone."

  "Oh, real smart, Jude. I'll be sure to check the morgue for random bodies chucked in a dumpster."

  I grab her damp hair and fist it, yanking her head back as I lean down by her ear, trailing my tongue along the side of her neck. "You aren't going to win this one, doll. You can go, but you stay in the hotel." I slam my lips over her mouth and her body relaxes in my hold, just when I have her clawing at my chest, I push her away and back under the heavy stream of water. "We gotta be ready in an hour."

  ***break***

  The plane ride was short and shitty, and Tor bitched about being left in a hotel the entire way. As soon as we touch down, I'm shoving an angry Tor in a rental car. We drive straight to the hotel and I can feel her silently seething next to me. When we pull up to the hotel, she gets out, grabs her bag, and struts inside, standing to the side of the concierge desk as I check in.

  On the way to the room, I prepare myself for World War fucking Three. I know she’s going to try and talk me into letting her go even though we’ve been over this five hundred times already. We walk in. She drops her bag and looks at me. “Have fun with Blowback,” she says, and gives me a quick kiss.

  I stand, staring at her, waiting, but she turns around and flops down on the bed. “Okay…” I slowly back toward the door, glaring at her because I don't trust her for shit. "Stay here."

  She rolls her eyes and huffs. "Yes, Jude, I understand. You go play with Blowjob."

  "I mean it, Tor."

  She grabs the remote and turns the TV on, but I still don't close the door. I'm in shock that she is just...lying there. "Please,” I say, “don't make me comb through half of New Mexico looking for you."

  She shakes her head and flips the channel, and I close the door.

  I'm uneasy as shit about this. She never, never gives in but I sure as shit can't take her to Blowback’s. I leave the hotel, climb into the rental, and thirty minutes later I'm pulling up to an iron gate with a "B" in script across the front. “Well, isn’t that fancy,” I mumble under my breath as roll the window down. There's a keypad in front of the gate, and I reach through the window to press the buzzer.

  Static comes over the speaker. "Yes?"

  "I have a meeting at three."

  "Your name?"

  "J.P."

  There's an electronic click before the large gate swings open. I drive through, parking right in front of the large marble steps. I grab the duffel bag I brought with me, open the car door, and as soon as I step out, three men in black shirts and gray slacks approach me.

  The tallest one smiles. "I need to check your bag." He motions with his hand for the bag. I pause before handing it over. While he searches it, the other men pat me down. Good thing I left my gun in the fucking glovebox.

  The two men nod when the find no weapons on me, and the other guy tosses the duffel bag back to me. "This way," he says, nodding his head toward the side of the house.

  I follow him along a gravel walkway beside the house, through a gate, and out onto an empty pool deck that looks like it belongs to the Ritz-Carlton.

  "Mr. Blowback will meet with you shortly," he says before turning and heading back toward the house.

  I'm literally left standing alone on the deck, which for some reason, makes me very uneasy. There's a waterfall at the end of the pool and behind it is a wrought iron table and chairs so I make my way over to it. The chair scrapes the stone pavers when I pull it out to take a seat. I tuck the duffel bag under my chair, and I wait.

  And I wait.

  The sun beats down on me, causing sweat to roll down my temples. I take a cigarette and light.

  "Smoking is not healthy," a man says from the other side of the deck.

  I squint against the
sun at the man crossing the deck. He's dressed in a crisp white shirt and linen pants, and looks much younger than I would have expected. Late twenties, early thirties maybe.

  "J.P.," he says, holding out his hand.

  I grab his hand and shake it. "Blowback."

  "Yes, I am." He takes a seat next to me and smiles, his gold tooth glinting in the sun. Seconds later, a server crosses the pool deck and hands both of us a cold glass of whisky. The heat's already causing condensation to trickle down the sides.

  "What's the matter?" he asks. "You don't like whisky?"

  I set the glass on the patio table. "It's not good business practice to drink before a deal is made."

  He smirks and scrubs his hand over his chin. "Who says I'm going to make a deal with you?"

  "I know the Sinaloa fucks are late on their payment. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but you need money to make money."

  Narrowing his eyes, he leans forward and braces his elbows on his knees. "I'm listening."

  "I'll pay you twice as much as they did for each shipment." His eyes widen just a touch. It's a ridiculous offer, but, after all, I'm not buying this shit with my money. "But the catch is,” I say, “you can't sell to both the Sinaloa and me."

  He looks me up and down. "No one offers twice the asking price." He lifts a brow. "It's bad business. Unless you're a cop..."

  "Is it bad business if I’m able to cut the supply of my competitor?" I arch a brow. "Besides, I have a personal vendetta against the Sinaloa. So, if I can make a little money and I hurt them, win-win for me."

  He eyes me for a moment. "I want cash up front," he says.

  "Of course." I reach for the bag and toss it to him. He catches it, eagerly unzipping it and smiling when he sees the money inside.

  "Well then, J.P., it's a pleasure doing business with you."

  31

  Tor

  We’ve barely been back from New Mexico for five minutes when the front door to Gabe’s villa slams open so hard that it smashes against the wall. Gabe storms into the kitchen a few seconds later with a face like thunder. "Putas, all of them!" He swipes a hand over his face before he kicks at a chair.