Inevitable (Colombian Cartel Book 3)

by Suzanne Steele

  She frowned at him in disbelief as he picked up the untouched tray, placed her beloved teacup on it, and walked out. The door closed behind him and the key turned in the lock. What she didn’t understand was why she felt so fucking lonely when that door closed.

  Chapter Two

  “He’s not like the two of you—he’s nothing like the two of you.”

  Roxanne’s vehement declaration stuck in her throat as her heart began to race. Her husband of nearly thirty years prowled toward her, his nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed. His black Armani suit was paired with a silver button-down shirt, setting off his black eyes. They were so dark that there appeared to be no differentiation between the pupil and the iris, only a cold promise of retribution if he was crossed.

  Antonio Wayne Ramirez was a big man but didn’t move like one. His control of his body was absolute, enabling him to move effortlessly, smoothly. He dominated any environment he inhabited. His heart was as black as his eyes and Roxanne was the only woman who had access to it.

  The horror stories she had heard of his sadistic interrogation sessions had done nothing to sway her love for him. She recalled the words he had spoken to her when they first met, the memory bringing a faint smile to her lips: “I… am your knight in dark, shining, and wickedly laden armor—armor with shards that cut into your deepest and most hidden wants and desires. I am the happily ever after in your twisted, tormented tale of your Cinder-fuckin-rella dreams.”

  He had forced her to marry him after she and her best friend, Juanita, had scammed his brother out of a lot of money—recompense for their sins was the way the brothers viewed things. Antonio Wayne’s obsession with her had only grown through the years. The fear her sadistic husband created in her was an aphrodisiac she had come to depend on. He was the only man she had ever been with. She knew any other would pale in comparison.

  Roxanne looked in the mirror from where she was seated in front of her vanity table, and locked eyes with him as he stood behind her. He slid a massive hand over her collar bone, slipped his finger into the diamond-encrusted O-ring on her platinum collar, and tugged gently. From there, his hand slipped around her neck, squeezing just enough to feel her jugular pulse beneath the pad of his thumb. He resisted – barely – the urge to press against the vein until her world went black.

  “Would that be so bad,” he purred, “if he were like me?”

  “Tony, you know what I mean--” She rarely called him Tony these days, only when she had something serious to say, and only when they were alone. She had called him Tony in their early days, but had naturally begun calling him by his given name after his namesake nephew was born, just to avoid confusion later on. In cartel, there was no room for confusion when it came to the underworld’s ‘Who’s Who’.

  “You underestimate my nephew, wife of mine.” The possessiveness in his words did not go unnoticed; he never missed an opportunity to remind her that she belonged to only him. From the day he first saw her – a gift from his brother – he had been smitten. That mane of red hair and eyes that reminded him of the emerald green of a wild panther’s eyes suited her, hinting at the fiery temperament that had made her a successful cage fighter. She was still dedicated to working out and training, so she was well-equipped to fight any adversary that threatened the close bonds of Colombian cartel. She could sharp shoot like a pro and fistfight any enemy. Her only weakness was her husband, who lived for her and would kill for her.

  Their love was a passion forged in fire and ice—her being the only one who could thaw his frozen heart and him being the only one who could calm the fire in her soul. They were both as fucked up as any two people could be, but their dysfunctional love worked for them and their sexual chemistry burned brighter than ever.

  The Colombian cartel groupies knew to stay away from Antonio Wayne Ramirez. If they didn’t, they would suffer Roxanne’s wrath. She made no apologies for the madness she would dole out on any woman delusional enough to get near her man.

  She was committed to all the men in her family and would do anything to protect them and all that Colombian cartel stood for. Though she had been in the lifestyle they shared for decades, time had only enhanced her beauty, wit, and womanly wiles.

  Roxanne was stealthy and had every intention of finding out who the woman was that had captured her nephew’s heart. There had to be something special about her. She had never seen her nephew enamored with a woman. Sure, there had been one night stands, she kept up with the family gossip so she’d heard all about those, but never anything serious. It wouldn’t surprise her if the woman’s fate ended up being what hers had been: a marriage ceremony that was more of a command performance. The men in this family took what they wanted and she had yet to see any of them suffer remorse for their caveman ways.

  Her husband’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Sometimes a man has to be pushed into his true nature. The Ramirez blood runs through Tony’s veins. I have no doubt he’ll be successful in doing his job.” He leaned down and whispered silkily into his wife’s ear, “And if he can’t do the job, I will. I think we both know I would have no problem killing a woman.”

  In an attempt to lighten his mood, she chuckled. “I think you may be overreacting. I’m certain the woman is not a risk to the cartel. She’s a dancer, not a CIA agent.”

  “That’s where you and I differ. I don’t underestimate any of my enemies. One thing you are correct about is that she won’t be doing anything to hurt this family. I can assure you of that.”

  Roxanne thought about asking him if she could talk to the woman herself and then decided against it. Better to not let him know what she was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time she did something against his wishes. She wanted to get a read on the woman and she didn’t want him there when she did. Better to have her best friend and partner in crime, Juanita, with her. Whatever Roxanne missed, Juanita would catch. Roxanne understood that a mother knew her child as no one else could and that Juanita would see clearer than anyone else whatever kind of spell the woman held over her son.

  Antonio Wayne eyed her suspiciously, tugging the O-ring again and arching a brow. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere, Sir,” she answered demurely, although her eyes were twinkling with mirth. “Can’t a girl put on makeup to ensure her Master’s eyes don’t wander?”

  He slipped his hand inside her robe and traced his finger over a breast, trailing along her abdomen, until it landed between her legs. When she tried to press her knees together he scowled and pinched the tender skin of her inner thigh, twisting it until it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Your pussy belongs to me. You know better than to deny me what is mine.” He slid a finger between her slick folds and skillfully manipulated her clit with his thumb. He used his other hand to pull her chin back as he held her gaze.

  “Yes, Sir…” she whispered against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss that took her breath away. His tongue probed her mouth with deep, lush strokes that matched the tempo of his fingers.

  She nipped at his tongue with her teeth, moaning as the flutter in her belly gave notice she was on the verge of climaxing. When he slipped two fingers inside her, it sent her flying over the edge.

  As she shuddered through the waves of pleasure, he growled a warning in her ear. “Liar. You’re always up to something. It’s only a matter of time before I find out what it is. One thing’s for sure, I’ll never get bored with you. You stay in too much trouble for that to ever happen, and you enjoy the punishments too much.”

  With a sharp bite to her earlobe, he straightened and strode from the room. She would worry about the punishment later. Right now, she needed to call her partner in crime.

  Chapter Three

  “Ricardo, why are you doing this to that poor girl? You know Tony likes her. I doubt that she even knows where Santiago is.”

  Juanita was seated on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, which she had swept over one shoulder. She knew how much Ricardo enj
oyed watching the brush running through the glossy, blonde strands, so she took her time. Time with Ricardo, alone in the privacy of their suite of rooms, had been hard to come by lately.

  Ricardo and Juanita’s bedroom was luxuriously appointed with the substantial, masculine antiques he preferred, mixed with softer, more feminine textiles and bed linens selected by his wife. This was their sanctuary, an oasis where they were insulated from the pressures of cartel business, and the room’s warm, family-oriented ambiance reflected as much.

  Framed family photos could be found on just about every flat surface – a close-up of him holding Tony and Victor in his arms as toddlers, laughing as his sons’ chubby hands explored his face; Juanita sleeping, her blonde hair fanning out across the pillow; Victor, hair windswept and eyes defiant as he sat astride his first motorcycle; a stone-faced Ricardo standing next to Tony at the airport, just before the flight was called that would take Tony to boot camp.

  “Ah, my Rubia, you’re forever eavesdropping on my phone conversations. You know, that curious nature of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.” Ricardo’s pet name for his wife had come about because he loved her mane of blonde hair. It was a nickname that had stuck with Juanita throughout the years—a term of endearment only her husband used.

  She craned her neck to look up at Ricardo. His massive size was still an aphrodisiac after all these years, his body her erotic playground. He was her big, powerful, insanely masculine man. And he was an imposing figure as he towered over her. He reached down, picked up a strand of her hair and watched as it cascaded through his fingers. She studied the scar on his face, marveling at how it somehow added to the dangerous energy he exuded without even trying.

  “Rubia, you of all people should understand the woman’s severe case of Stockholm syndrome. Unfortunately, she bonded with a fucking serial killer. Do you understand the repercussions of that? He fucked with her head so badly that now she’s defending him. Our son is only doing what has to be done.”

  “She isn’t safe here with the two of you. I love you, darling, but you forget that I know what you are capable of.” Juanita had witnessed Ricardo and Antonio Wayne's ruthlessness over the years and she knew firsthand they wouldn’t hesitate to kill the woman if they saw her as a threat.

  “I beg to differ…if our son can get through to her, he’ll save countless lives. Santiago will not stop killing until he’s dead. Until he has a cartel bullet in his head, he’ll continue to stalk and kill. She’s safer here than anywhere else. At least if my brother and I kill her, you’ll know we had a good reason for it.”

  She rolled her eyes, his cold laugh doing nothing to put her mind at ease. But she still had to ask the one question that had been plaguing her. “Why didn’t Santiago kill Caden?”

  “Evidently the dysfunction was a mutual thing. She did a number on him, too. I must say, I do respect her for that. She’s the first person I know of who has been able to outwit the son of a bitch. No small feat.”

  “You know, I don’t get it. Santiago could easily have sated his need for blood like Antonio Wayne does.”

  Her husband’s rich, baritone laughter made her smile as he asked, “And just how does my little brother do that?”

  “Well, he’s notorious for his imagination when it comes to his sadistic interrogation techniques. I’m sure it helps satisfy his craving for blood.”

  “Well, I won’t disagree with you there. Antonio Wayne does have some issues.”

  “Darling, your brother is crazy and so are you,” she murmured indulgently, reaching up to briefly rest her hand along his cheek.

  His face clouded over with a seriousness that carried a threat that couldn’t be denied. With one finger, he lifted her chin. “You would do well to remember that, Rubia—my devilish, blonde-haired angel. When it comes to you, I’m a man possessed. I make no secret of it. You bewitched me long ago and to live without you would be the death of me. You are my only weakness…mother of my children, keeper of my heart, and overseer of my soul. Yes…when it comes to my family, I am quite insane.”

  “I love you, husband,” she said with a soft smile. “Now go to your meeting with your brother and try not to kill anyone today.”

  “I can’t make any promises. But I won’t kill you—I can promise you that.”

  “Trust me, I won’t let you kill me. On another note, I believe our son loves this girl, so you really must tread carefully. Don’t do anything to make your son hate you, because that, my love, would kill me.”

  Before he took his leave, he bent down, kissing her forehead with tenderness a man his size shouldn’t possess. When it came to his wife, he could be as tender as he was cruel, and as nurturing as he was brutal. He was a beautiful beast and he belonged to her.

  She looked down at her cell phone when it rang, and smiled. It was her best friend calling and she already knew why.

  Chapter Four

  Santiago brushed the hair off his face and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wished he could brush away Caden’s memory as easily. He could see her in his mind’s eye the way she looked the night he had left her sleeping—the night he’d given her freedom back to her.

  She was the only person to ever pull any kind of mercy from his tainted soul. He’d believed she could heal him. If there was any redemption to be had, it could only be achieved through her.

  He savored his final memory of her. Long, blonde hair had spilled over the pillow like something from a fairytale. He’d give anything to look into those baby blues of hers one more time. But he couldn’t risk it — couldn’t risk the beast within him squeezing the life from her lungs, only to leave her dead in a ditch somewhere. He had come dangerously close during her captivity and would never have forgiven himself.

  The others didn’t matter; worthless whores, all of them. But she was different. She came to him as an angel of light and left her mark on him—leading him to believe there was some goodness left in the world. He would never be the same now. He had done the right thing by letting her live. He just wished he didn’t feel so tormented about it. It was the first thing he’d ever done for a woman that wasn’t born of selfishness.

  The itch to kill seeped into his fingers like tentacles weaving their way around his brain. He longed to feel the blood of a victim trickle through his fingers. Like a beast born of the rage he kept so tightly reined, his bloodlust begged to be let loose on an unsuspecting victim.

  He tossed the covers back in frustration. As he heaved his body out of bed, he cursed that bitch, Brook, for the limp that still hampered his mobility. The stiffness was more pronounced in the mornings. He headed into the bathroom to shower and get ready. Why resist the urge to kill? If he couldn’t have her then he would settle for another blonde—a proxy to take the place of his beautiful Caden. It would have to do.

  The small, cramped room did nothing to bolster his mood—only killing would do that. He wondered if the streets of Louisville would welcome him with open arms. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t stay away knowing his beautiful Caden was here. She needed him.

  This would be his way of letting her know he was near. When she turned on the news and saw the urgent reports that a serial killer was terrorizing the streets of the city, she would know he had come back for her. Then maybe, just maybe, he would finally get the healing he so desperately needed; healing that only Caden could provide.

  Chapter Five

  This time when Caden heard the key turn in the lock and the door open, she gasped and stood as two women came in. She relaxed and tilted her head inquiringly, looking at the blonde as the comforting sense of recognition washed over her. “You’re his mother, aren’t you?” she asked. The blonde had to be six feet tall and the redhead wore a beautiful, gold choker. It looked almost like…a collar?

  “Yes,” said the blonde as she shot an amused glance over at her companion. “I’m the mother of the man who appears to be very much in love with you, dear.”

  A blush of color heated her cheeks. She
frowned and shook her head, the realization hitting her for the first time. “I care about him too. I don’t understand why I’m being kept here, but before things got so crazy, he won me over after we met online – I just didn’t realize it at the time. Long story,” she chuckled. “I don’t understand why he feels the need to make me stay here with him.”

  Juanita smiled indulgently. “So, he met you undercover online. That sounds like my son—always covert operations for him. I’m certain he knows more about you than you think. He is good at his job—very good. He isn’t keeping you here to punish you, dear. He’s trying to protect you. That man, Santiago, who was holding you captive — he is a dangerous man.”

  “Not to me, he isn’t.”

  Juanita sat on the cot and looked at Caden earnestly. “That. That right there is the problem. Don’t you see? You’re defending a serial killer. Have you thought about what that means? How can you defend a man who enjoys killing women for sport?”

  “I know, I know. I don’t understand it either.”

  “Do you love him—this serial killer?” Roxanne blurted out with no warning.

  Juanita rolled her eyes in her friend’s direction, shocked that Roxanne had been so bold. “Leave it to you, Roxanne, to be so damn blunt.” She was surprised when Caden answered her friend’s question.

  “No, I don’t love him. I feel sorry for him. He’s so tormented.”

  Juanita used the woman’s candor to her advantage. “Do you know where he is? I’m just trying to help you. My husband and his brother will not be merciful if they find out you know where he is and didn’t tell them.”

  “But I don’t know where he is. What I do know is he’s coming back for me. He won’t be able to stay away.”

  “Why?” Roxanne asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

  “Because he believes I’m the only woman who can save him.”