by Keta Kendric
My gaze shifted, perusing her body, noticing her quick breaths, but she hadn’t backed away. Leaning in, I placed my mouth a whisper away from hers before I turned so that my lips brushed the edge of her earlobe, making her dangling earrings swing.
“Not only am I going to be the first man you share a bed with, trust me, love, you are going to want to keep me in that bed with you, especially if I get to touch you the way I want to.”
Her lovely lips fell apart, and her big eyes couldn’t hide the surprise my words had put there. I left her standing there to gather clothes from my dresser, sensing her eyes on me completing the task.
I’d had the room remodeled so that she would have her own walk-in closet. Faint traces of paint wafted up my nose, reminding me of how recently I’d had the renovations done. The bathroom and bed, we would have to learn to share.
Why did I keep calling her ‘love,’ like I was a local from Britain or something? For some odd reason, I enjoyed the flashes of interest and curiosity that sparked in her eyes each time I addressed her with the term of endearment. The idea that I could spark her interest with a word intrigued me and had me eager to know what else I could do to interest her.
Mecca
Since my feet were rooted to the floor, they kept me in place long after Arjen had gathered his clothes and went into our bathroom. Apparently, I was about to share a bed with a man for the first time in my life.
A deep eye-closing inhale followed a slow release before I went in search of my clothes. When he had stood close enough for his scent and body heat to wrap around me, my clothing started to constrict like a boa, messing with my air supply and forcing my heart to pump harder. What was up with me and my bodies reaction to our closeness?
It was something I would have to figure out later. For now, I needed to figure out how to get settled in this new place. My efficient husband had sent a truck to pick up my belongings a week ago.
When movers had arrived at my condo, I attempted to run them off, but they were more afraid of Arjen than they were of my smart mouth. They ended up waiting around for hours until I packed a few suitcases and pointed out a few items I wouldn’t mind taking along with me.
Seeing my things displayed through our huge apartment-sized bedroom was a bit strange, but this was what I had signed up for. However, him wanting shared accommodations was a surprise. Desiree told me she’d had her own room.
Whining ass bitch was a phrase I often used when cursing out my men, but they weren’t words I wanted associated with me. Therefore, I would rely on pride and determination to see this marriage thing through.
Since my name was above the doorway in fancy gold-plated letters, there was no mistaking I was about to walk into my closet. Automatic lights popped on when I stepped into the space. The sight of it stocked with the clothes and shoes I had sent wasn’t what blew me away. There was also a boutique of clothing items stored in the space, and at closer inspection were the right sizes.
Had Arjen done all of this? There was even a section stocked with expensive lingerie in styles that I wouldn’t mind trying. What was all this?
“Husband got style. I’ll give him that,” I mouthed to myself. How the hell did he know what I liked? How did he know my size?
I wasn’t one of those women obsessed with losing weight. Tits, ass, and hips. I had curves but worked my ass off to stay fit. Staying fit in my line of work could mean the difference in outrunning death or being caught by him, fighting him, or having your soul snatched.
I spent a considerable amount of time gawking and drooling over my closet space before I stepped out and was stopped in my tracks by my half-naked husband. He was in nothing but low-hanging basketball shorts and droplets of water clung to his chiseled body. The tattoo of an explosion of guns on his chest no doubt represented the Ferali Syndicate. There was only one other that I caught a glimpse of peeking over his right shoulder and hinting at a back tattoo.
Unable to tear my eyes away, I stared, pretending to be unbothered by his stalking gaze. He was showing it, so I had no shame looking. I hadn’t seen a man that fine since my ex one-time-lover, Warren. I had assumed Warren would be the Mandingo I was hunting for, until I found out he was clueless as to how to work the good thick inches he’d been blessed with. I had learned the hard way that night that big, did not equal good sex.
The man’s ego wouldn’t shut the fuck up long enough for me to give him pointers that could have helped him. I ended up leaving his ass at the cheap motel I had taken him to. The idea of egos getting in the way of me getting a good dicking was like ice water to the view I was enjoying of Arjen.
“You see something you like?” he asked.
“It’s okay,” I mouthed before turning and heading to the bathroom with my clothes tucked under my arm. If his plan was to seduce me into sleeping with him; he would find out I was a lot stronger than he assumed.
He was hot, I had to give him credit, but I’d had hot before. Some of those hot men had dropped their boxers or briefs, and turned into piles of cold ambers that had burned out with no chance in hell of being re-lit.
Was I going to have to eventually sleep with Arjen, so he would see for himself that we weren’t compatible?
9
Arjen
A week had passed, and I had hardly seen Mecca. She wasn’t coming home some nights, so admittedly I was curious to see what she did all day. She had enough to keep her busy because of the vast territory the Black Saints covered and the hundreds of people who worked for her. Therefore, I didn’t doubt she was busy. However busy my wife was, it didn’t stop me from wanting to spy on her.
I’d had guards following Mecca before we were engaged since she was initially set to marry Khane. The information the guards conveyed was usually a disjointed mess. The men were afraid to be on the detail that required guarding her because they were convinced that she flirted with danger, and often entered neighborhoods that banned the word safe.
We found out the hard way that the guards’ concerns were warranted after one had returned from being missing for three days. The guard notified me along with his request to quit, that he had spent three days trapped in a neighborhood he was convinced she led him into on purpose.
He had followed Mecca into the Highland Park neighborhood and had gotten trapped there and hunted. His military background was all that had saved him from becoming a statistical example of who shouldn’t enter certain areas. As a result, I’d had to hire African-American guards for her detail who weren’t afraid to enter neighborhoods that the devil himself had disowned.
Today, I had decided to ride along with Dean, a guard assigned to Mecca’s detail so that I could spy on her daily activities. What I was finding out had me impressed with her work ethic.
She had made stops at her three businesses: a car dealership with an impressive amount of high-end inventory, a reputable four-star hotel that could accommodate over a hundred guests, and a tire and rim shop connected to a large automotive service station.
She had met up with several of her workers to discuss business inside the lobby of her hotel, and a second meeting inside the dining area of one of her men’s restaurants. The men that worked for her were all dressed in suits and ties, so to any outside eyes, they were having a legit business meeting.
She and her men weren’t your average street dealers. I found that most were legit business owners using drug sales as the core source of extending their profit margins.
Mecca was fully aware that I had a guard following her and often appeared not to care as long as he stayed out of her way. She had even managed to cook up a batch of coke with one of her cooks and tested the strength to ensure they were putting out high-grade product.
After she had entered what I was made aware was one of their trap houses, I’d had Dean risk his life to knock on the door and check on her. He informed me that she had answered the door and gave him the briefest details of what she was doing.
Her actions were proof that she knew the i
ns-and-outs of the business and didn’t hesitate to get her hands dirty if she needed to. She went about her day, conducting random checks on houses they owned and people and businesses that they associated with. It was nearly 4 p.m., and she had yet to slow down long enough to eat anything and was still going strong.
“Does she go like this all the time?” I asked Dean.
“Yes, Loud,” he said, calling me by my nickname. “Some days it’s worse if there are problems because, she’ll stay until she figures out a solution to whatever problem is interfering with her sales. She doesn’t leave anything undone. Works really hard.” he stated, sounding proud, which caused me to lift a brow.
The serious glare I flashed at Dean caused him to shrink into his seat to avoid getting stung by it. Dean had grown up in the syndicate like me. We had known each other since I took control from my father, and this was the first time I’d glared at him with murder in my eyes.
“I don’t like other men giving my wife praise. Praise means interest, and interest means a bullet in the fucking head if they try anything outside of protecting her.”
Dean kept his eyes focused straight ahead. “No disrespect, Loud. I just meant that she was hardworking.”
There was no need to render a reply because rest assured that Dean would warn the rest of the guards to keep their mouth’s closed where it concerned Mecca.
It was my job now to notice every detail about my wife. Was I going to have to have a talk with my guards?
10
Mecca
Maybe I was naive, but I didn’t have an ounce of fear driving alone into Corvel Cardenas’ compound that he called a house. Corvel was the second in charge, the mouthpiece, and mediator for the queen of cartels, Silvia Cardenas, one of the most notorious queenpins in the business.
I’d had to do some fancy maneuvering to get rid of the guard Arjen was convinced I needed in order to make this meeting. I appreciated my husband’s interest in keeping me safe and didn’t mind the extra gun in case something went down, but there was no way I was leading anyone to my supplier.
I had traveled to Corvel’s many times with my uncle and stayed in my place by remaining quiet and observing their interactions. For reasons I have yet to figure out, Corvel always included me in their conversation, asking my opinions and questioning me like he was testing me.
The fact that I spoke Spanish pleased him as well. My fluency in the language and being armed with an arsenal of training to be my uncle’s personal bodyguard, were the main reasons Raymond had decided to start bringing me along.
Maybe Corvel understood that I was being groomed to someday take over for my uncle. However, no one could have predicted it would have happened in such a fucked up way.
Armed guards conducted a thorough check of my car, opening the doors, the trunk, and hood while I stood in an area they had pointed out. It was expected, but I was naked without my Glock, HB, either on me or within arm’s reach as the guards had taken it and would return it when I departed.
Once the car was checked, I was allowed to drive the rest of the way up the driveway, where I was then directed to where to park my vehicle in front of the house.
Silvia Cardenas was my shero, because she ran one of the biggest and most feared cartels in the country with an iron fist. I drooled over pictures the media would capture of her, always regal and always the epitome of class and elegance.
She was one of the most powerful Mexican-American women in the world, who rubbed elbows with government officials and any number of high-level types. Her multimillion-dollar cosmetics and perfume lines provided her the cover that the world chose to see.
Underneath all the glitz and glam, Silvia hid her beast that had the power to rip apart hell and made enough money to rebuild it. She always carried that smile that made you think she had just done something bad, like ordered someone’s beheading.
While most little girls and young women were dreaming of a husband and children, becoming lawyers and doctors, or running businesses and corporations, I dreamed of being like Silvia Cardenas.
Susurrador de la Muerte, death whisperer was what they called her: a name that reflected the level of terror she was capable of dispensing.
Few knew Silvia was the head of a cartel, and of those of us that did, we rarely saw her, or in my case, had never seen her in person. She was a ghost to the underworld, but her presence always lingered and incited fear. From what I knew, she made appearances when she needed to whisper her song of death in someone’s ear.
I took my seat on the large snow-white couch centered in a living room that rivaled an auditorium. The black briefcase I carried was checked three times before I was allowed through the front door.
Corvel entered the room with a ready smile as I stood to greet him. Low-cropped dark hair, mid-forties, fit, and always impeccably dressed, he could make women half his age swoon, but he loved men. He clasped one of my hands in his and brushed his lips across my cheeks before he let them go.
“Ms. Evans,” he stared, but put a quick stop to his words by sealing his lips and tapping a finger against his hip. “My apology. Mrs. Vallin. You look lovely, dear.”
Today, I had chosen a dark blue designer pantsuit to give life to my integrity and seriousness.
“Thank you,” I replied, grateful that he was in a good mood. I had seen him in a bad mood while with my uncle, and it was a side of him I would rather not deal with. Although after I update him of the mess my uncle had left, he was likely going to lose that bright smile.
“Something to drink?” he asked. He hadn’t articulated a word of English yet, preferring to speak in Spanish.
“No, thank you.” I never drank while conducting business.
Corvel sat beside me on the couch, slanted so that he could observe me. He had this way about him that he would observe every part of your body while you spoke like he was attempting to detect deception by studying your body language.
“I wanted to sit down with you to bring to light all that has occurred in the past few months. Some, I was aware of, some I wasn’t, but all I have inherited.”
He nodded, eyes curious, but likely already knew most of what I was about to tell him. I learned a long time ago, that you disclosed everything pertinent to maintain a certain level of trust and respect needed in a business that dealt with dispensing the art of war, and mediating between life and death when producing a product that was the link between them all. Add to that, the cartel had had someone keeping an eye on me, so it would be wise to provide full disclosure.
I revealed all the information on the incidents that led to the discovery of my uncle’s raw deal with the Vallins, and of him disappearing with millions. I went on to also confess the news of our last shipment being seized by law enforcement. Corvel listened intently and watched me in the way that he does everyone.
The tips of my fingers brushed along the top of the briefcase at my feet before I picked it up. “I’d like to present this two million as good faith money, in the hopes that you will allow us to fix our problems, root out our infected areas, and continue to do business with you.”
He had hardly glanced at the bands of money inside the case before his eyes returned and locked on mine.
“We appreciate your generous offer and will accept it. However, I must inform you, Mrs. Vallin, that your uncle has another problem that you are unaware of.”
My heart wasted no time shattering and dropping into my stomach to be digested. What the fuck had Raymond done now? He no longer deserved the title of uncle anymore. He didn’t even deserve to keep the Evans name. From now on, he would be referred to as Raymond.
“He not only owes us for this last shipment, but he has only returned five million of the shipment before that one. We allowed him to go in the hole because of the years of trust we had built.”
Fifteen million fucking dollars in the hole. That made the two million, of good faith money I offered, look like a fucking insult.
“I can assure you, Mr. Corvel,
I was not aware of the debt, but I will work hard to repay you. Are you willing to allow another shipment despite the past debt?”
“No. We require payment in full but will allow a longer grace period for repayment before we release the next shipment to you.”
“I understand,” I replied, swallowing my disappointment as my fucking mind flooded with questions. Where the fuck was Raymond with the twenty million he had disappeared with? Finding him could put an end to the trouble I was in.
However, with his problem, there was no guarantee he still had the millions. It was nothing for him to blow a million in hours indulging in his drug of choice, gambling.
Corvel brushed his fingertips to the back of my hand. “You’ll find a way, Mrs. Vallin. The answer to all of your problems may be a breath away.”
The stress of the forced smile on my face caused my lips to thin before they decided to relax. I appreciated Corvel’s kindness in light of the situation, as I was well aware that they had killed for far less. All the debt we were in explained why the cartel was keeping eyes on me. If someone owed me fifteen million, I would keep eyes on them too.
After I had climbed back into my car and picked up HB, I just drove, my mind locked on one question. How the fuck was I supposed to come up with fifteen million dollars?
Where the fuck am I supposed to pull fifteen million dollars from? There was also the matter of the extra ten million, the Vallins paid the FA on behalf of Desiree.
The questions remained, and they would go nowhere, until I came up with a solution. The first stop would be to my cousin Ray Junior, to see if he knew where his father could have gone. Then, I would contact every spy and rat-ass informant I had out there. Somebody knew something.