A Ride or Die Kind of Love

by Chelsea Camaron

  “Isn’t one of your cousin’s a Navarro?”

  “Yeah but that puta don’t care about us,” Ronan said, doing a perfect imitation of someone from the Navarro cartel. “Motherfucker thinks he’s completely Mexican and always goin’ on and on about all this Aztec bullshit when if his mother hadn’t had him—and our aunt is as Irish as paddy’s pig—the stupid prick wouldn’t even be alive.”

  “True. Hence the reason why Drake and I identify with all parts of our family, as twisted as they may be.”

  “I heard your grandfather was a Nazi on your mom’s side—that true?”

  I laughed out loud. “Um, no, it’s not true. My grandfather was born in 1943 and my mother was born summer of 1965. My great-grandfather was a supposed Nazi but we don’t talk about what life was like over in Germany before 1940.”

  “I bet you know kraut though?”

  I smiled tightly. “Yes, I’m fluent in German…and French. My grandmother is, technically, half French since her parents were born in Alsace-Lorraine. It was German land before the end of World War I so my grandmother identifies with being German but she also grew up speaking French.”

  He began walking towards the door as he said, “Looks like Cillian picked himself a winner this time.”

  “Did he?” I smiled again as Ronan paused, and turned my way. “I’m just as damaged as he is and I know I should be grateful because Conan wasn’t raised by strangers but…he was our first born and we were both cheated out of a future with him. If it’s been hell on Cillian, just know that it’s been no walk in the park for me either.”

  “I know it hasn’t but you’re strong and a survivor. You won’t let this kill you and in the end, you’ll be stronger because of it.”

  He winked at me and I watched Ronan leave my office before I walked over to my desk and sat down.

  I hope to God I’m strong enough for what Cillian needs at this moment in his life. I have to be.

  As I breathed a loud sigh of resignation, I looked at the official separation paperwork and buried it under a stack of files. Even the thought of Brianna having the last name of Cox filled me green with envy although I would never tell a single soul that. Some secrets weren’t worth repeating.

  Chapter Seven

  Cillian

  It was almost four o’clock before Cillian drove to Jackson and Hughes Law Office in Lake Tahoe. He took his truck to look less conspicuous; he had a feeling the law would be all over him like the force of God after this crime so he choose to live his last few days in utter freedom with relish.

  He walked in, past the reception desk where Debra, the receptionist, waved at him before he made a beeline for her office. Gisela was still at her desk and also on the phone as she pulled out the legal document and handed it to him.

  Cillian began to read the document as he said, “Renee is never gonna get this to court on time.”

  Gisela ended her phone call and faced him, her gorgeous amber eyes were bright though they had a mysterious twinkle in them. “She doesn’t have to—she’s going to e-file the documents, and mail in the original copy.” She smiled at him as he sat down across from her in one of the client chairs and signed the paperwork with his left hand.

  “Listen, about last night—”

  “Last night was…well, last night. You’re a busy man and I understand what kind of predicament you’re in at the moment. You had to make sure Declan and Caitlin were safe. It’s no problem, really. I didn’t take offense because you left before I awoke.”

  His crystal blue eyes darkened in his sexy, handsome face. “Maybe I wanted you to take offense. You’re not just some common piece of street trash, Gisela, and if I treated you that way, it wasn’t my intention. I needed to get the kids to school and talk to Brianna before we left. She deserved the right to know it was over between the two of us.”

  His beautiful lover glared at him before she turned toward her Mac PowerBook again. “Brianna isn’t as stupid as you think and if she was smart, she would have known whatever you two had was over a long time ago.”

  Cillian slammed his fist down on the oak desk. “That’s the problem. You give her too much credit because she is that dumb. She begged me to stay but then said I would have to change my philandering ways if we were going to make a go at a real relationship.”

  “And what was she going to do about her philandering ways? Were they going to stop?” Gisela stared at him with a strange look of both resignation and pity. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. Believe me, I’ve gotten the pep talk from Ronan and I won’t abandon you. At this point…the legal separation was the best I could do. With our luck, your divorce would have been fast tracked so the state could get a hold of Brianna’s testimony. I am not trying to…end what we have before we begin but try to see the situation from my point of view.”

  “Believe me, I am. I realize even if I wasn’t going to be in trouble, I don’t look like the hottest catch right now. I’ve got two children and a crazy old lady I am merely legally separated from…not exactly ‘hot stuff’ material.”

  She glared at him. “Those are your hang-ups, not mine. I certainly wasn’t silly enough to think you would allow Brianna to take the kids. She obviously isn’t capable of living without a man, and Lord knows what those two children will be forced into.” Gisela sighed out loud. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. Shall we? You get through tonight and we’ll discuss what happens tomorrow…well, tomorrow. That is the best I can do for you right now, is that understood?”

  “Yeah.” Cillian stood and handed the paperwork back to her. “Listen, I have to get ready and the meeting is going down in less than a couple of hours. I hoped we would have more…time…to discuss everything but that doesn’t seem like it will be the case and I’m sorry for that.”

  He turned his back on her and she suddenly said, “Please wait.”

  He stopped and as she approached, the scent of Pure Poison filled his nostrils and he found himself once again in that state of enthrallment as she stepped in front of him. Her business suit was smart, expensive and tailored with a skirt that barely ended above her knees. She looked professional, intelligent and way too damned sexy to have her body pinned up in such upscale attire.

  “Listen, I just want you to know that I do care about you and love you still. Not that you don’t already know that.” Her hands touched his chest covered by a white tee-shirt but he could still feel the heat radiating from her palms. “Be careful tonight and if you think there is a possibility of any kind of set up…walk away. It’s not worth it if I am going to end up on my own and those two children who love and worship their father end up without you.”

  “Please tell me you inserted some kind of Rider about custody in the paperwork—”

  “I did. Desmond and Bronaugh will get full custody if something should happen to you but still…Dec and Cait…they want you to raise them—not their grandparents.”

  Cillian leaned into her and caught the scent of Garnier shampoo in her freshly washed hair. He was still half a foot taller than her even though she wore a pair of nude four-inch heels that went well with the caramel colored suit she wore. Her olive toned skin radiated health and warmth. There wasn’t a flaw to be seen on Gisela except for maybe the carefully hidden tattoo he’d had her get for him almost fourteen years before.

  The artist in question, Sean, had been reluctant knowing who her family was, and how much Raymond would come down like the wrath of God if he only knew. However Gisela had sworn him to secrecy and promised no matter how much her father beat her black and blue, she would never give up his identity.

  She was feisty, even when she’d been fifteen, and over the years, her personality traits were that much more apparent.

  Cillian knew he had to leave before he ended up doing something he would regret. He kissed her forehead and allowed his lips to linger longer than necessary before he pulled away and began to walk out of Gisela’s office.

  “Babe?”

  He
stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her again. She hadn’t called him that in more than fourteen years. “Yeah, Butterscotch?” he wondered, using an old nickname because her skin reminded him of butterscotch candies.

  “You’ve told me everything…haven’t you?”

  His heart thundered in his chest. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean about tonight. I can’t defend you adequately if you…haven’t given me all the facts.”

  Cillian’s crystal blue eyes filled with mirth as his lips formed into a panty-melting grin. “Everythin’ you need to know, darlin’.”

  “I know exactly what that means.” She walked over to her desk and sat down again. “Don’t think you’re gonna fuck me again until you tell me what you didn’t let me know. Until then, enjoy the feeling of blue balls.”

  “But—”

  “I have a very reliable spy, Cillian. If I find out you’ve been with a Saint Slapper, I’ll cut it off. Have fun, lover.”

  He left her office and passed by the receptionist before he walked outside. The sun was starting to set and already the weather was beginning to become noticeably colder. He pulled his cut around his body before he slid into his truck.

  A few more hours and this horrible fucking day would be over.

  The deal with Aztecas Infierno took place two hours before Riley was told. There were only four of them from the Saints: Cillian, Ronan, Cricket and Kink. From the Navarro side, their cousin, Carlito was there along with three of his foot soldiers: Lil Benny, Juanito, and Manny. Cillian didn’t like any of them, including his cousin; however he also knew they wouldn’t get a bullet in the back of the head.

  “Where’s Quinn and that new guy…Riley?” Juanito slurred a bit before he finished up a forty-ounce and threw it against the warehouse wall, the glass shattering within the paper sack.

  “Real classy…” Ronan lit a cigarette. “All that fuckin’ money you guys are makin’ and you’re still drinkin’ Colt 45?”

  “Hey, I bet your coco puff would prefer what I’m packin’ rather than that skinny ass, little white dick you got in your pants.” Lil Benny laughed out loud as he and Juanito high-fived one another.

  “You mean this big cock right here?” Ronan wondered as he undid his pants and took out his dick while a nine millimeter clicked in his other hand. “Yeah, you faggots gotta stop lookin’ at my fuckin’ dick and start lookin’ down the barrel of this motherfuckin’ gun I’m pointin’ at ya. By the way…refer to Naomi as a fuckin’ ‘coco puff’ again and one of you will go home limpin’ tonight.”

  Cillian stared at Carlito who looked back with the same crystal blue eyes as his own and it was like glancing at a Latino version of himself. “Listen, now that the pissin’ competition is over, I know the product is pristine but I gotta try it out. My pops is thinking about starting to cut it with meth and although a deal with the White Knights makes my fuckin’ ass itch, business is business.”

  “Puta cabrón scum ass white trash motherfuckers.” Carlito spit on the ground before he reached into his pocket and handed Cillian a vial. “Same shit as we’re sellin’ you. We don’t cut our product with meth, especially when we’re givin’ you wholesale prices.”

  “Listen, we’re in the middle of an upgrade at the Clubhouse and it’s drainin’ our finances. We won’t be doing this forever, just until we can get back in the black.”

  “Hey, you do what you want but don’t be braggin’ about how you got pure AI product when you’re dilutin’ that shit, you got it, cousin?”

  Cillian nodded before he opened the vial and snorted a bump. It was pure as the driven the snow and the high was pretty much felt as soon as the drip began in the back of his throat.

  Ronan had buttoned up his pants and walked over before he took the vial. He did a bump before he offered it to Kink and Cricket.

  “Listen, I wouldn’t be askin’ but it’s only us around—our fathers aren’t here so this doesn’t go beyond the eight of us—and I need to start a side enterprise. Don’t worry, it’s not even stayin’ in the country. My uncle in the UK needs some and I need some extra money for a legal defense fund…I have a feeling some old shit is comin’ down the pipeline and I’ll need to be prepared. How much for a side cut?”

  Carlito laughed out loud. “I have a whole factory I’m responsible for. Pops can’t watch it all. How much you need?”

  “Ten kilos.”

  “You know those dolls in that movie, Traffic? We make ‘em…it’s a fuckin piñata factory. I’ll make ‘em and I won’t even charge for labor. Where’s it going?”

  “London…and Belfast…but my uncle will distribute to Belfast. I’m paying for it and when he receives it, he wires me the money.”

  Carlito whistled. “A lot can go wrong, mano. I just hope you know what you’re doin’.”

  Cillian lit a cigarette and dragged deeply. “So do I.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll let you know how long it’ll take to get that much product and how much it’s gonna cost you. I gotta give you a family discount…you need it pure?”

  “I’d prefer it to not be…if you have some shit in the factory to dilute it then do it.”

  “Okay…seventy percent cocaine, thirty percent baby powder.”

  “Make it sixty-forty.”

  “Hey, it’s your drugs, man.”

  “What’s the potency of the product you’re currently selling to us?”

  “Ninety-ten. The strongest shit you can get a hold of without going to Colombia and dealin’ with the drug lords themselves. Believe me, you don’t wanna, not even for an extra ten percent.”

  Cillian dragged on his cigarette again before he looked at his guys and nodded his head. Cricket and Kink began to load up the crates into the back of the van while Ronan stood there with his brother. They exchanged the money in two black duffel bags that weighed a ton. Carlito took a bag and Lil Benny took the other.

  “As always, nice doing business with you and see you next month.” Carlito didn’t bother with the shaking hands bit.

  He was their cousin after all, and Cillian realized if he couldn’t trust him then who could he trust?

  Absolutely no one except Gisela.

  Even when she’d let him down, and walked out of his life, that hadn’t been her choice. With the kind of parents she had, the upscale criminal circles, which they moved in, being with someone like him hadn’t been feasible at the time. Not at the age of sixteen.

  If he’d only waited a few years to be so damn irresponsible and knock her up, there wouldn’t have been anything her parents could have done about the situation. The damage could have caused harsher relations between the Saints that already existed between them and the guineas—not to mention Jackson family—but at least he would have been happy. He’d spent over twelve years of his life being a miserable piece of shit who hated everything, and everyone—his kids, Gisela, and his brothers were the exception—because he couldn’t stand what he’d become.

  A fucking biker cliché. Big man with a gun who liked to get his aggressions out by shooting, maiming and torturing people who’d wronged the LS.

  Ronan grabbed his shoulder, shattering him out of his contemplation. “Come on, man. One more thing to do and we can go back to the Club house and celebrate.”

  “I wanted to see Gisela—”

  “Naomi is gonna drop by her place and pick her up. After tonight, you might not want to leave the Club house for a while until the Feds come knockin’, know what I mean?”

  The two men walked out to their Harleys as the members of Aztecas Infierno got into a late model black van and took off. Carlito was the only one who owned a Harley but his was a classic, one Cillian had personally restored himself.

  “You boys be safe and if there are any issues, Emilio will be making the call to Dizzy, not me.”

  Cillian hoped nothing went wrong. The last person he needed to deal with was his father or Emilio—even if he was his uncle.

  Both men watched Carli
to take off on his Harley and didn’t speak until the sound of the engine was just a slight murmur in the background instead of a loud, rumbling noise.

  “Listen, just see me to the drop and I can take care of everything else myself. I don’t want you implicated in this crime in any way, you got it? I acted on my own accord. That’s the way it’s gotta be. Plausible deniability, remember?”

  Ronan shrugged. “Yeah, I know all about that shit, Cillian, but I’m not leavin’ your side until that son of a bitch is dead, you got that? I got all my tats hidden and I’ll keep my helmet on. As you can see, I switched. All black with blackout shades—”

  “Yeah but someone might be able to spot your bike—”

  “And? It’s completely black too. I covered up all the insignias that would identify it as me. Let’s just get this over and done with, all right? I think we can both agree that us sittin’ here like two fuckin’ old ladies in a knitting circle isn’t going to move this job along. Come on, let’s shake a motherfuckin’ tail feather and go back to the Club house so we can get drunk, and fuck our women. Right, bro?”

  Cillian slipped on his helmet in reply and climbed on to his Harley.

  One more motherfuckin’ errand and he was free; that’s what he had to keep tellin’ himself.

  Bookie had drawn the short straw and had the pleasure of keeping Riley company at one of the old warehouses the Saints used for deals in the past. Unfortunately, the warehouse sat in the jurisdiction of Pine Bluff and Dizzy stopped using it because if any shit went down there, the Demon’s Bastards would be the first approached by Sheriff Briggs.

  The exception was that night.

  The Bastards had no connection to Riley and didn’t know who the fuck he was; regardless whether he was murdered here or on the Birch Tree side, it wouldn’t matter. All fingers would be pointed firmly in the Saints’ direction.