Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) (14 page)

Ronan could come up with a million reasons why he was against the idea of selling women against their will but the two biggest issues always came back to the women he was closest to in his life.

One man—an ex-lover—had only traumatized Naomi, and yet she was still a mess. After three months of therapy, she was far from okay and it would take years for her to heal. Her ordeal had lasted less than a week.

How would it be for one of these women they brought from a foreign country to undergo the kind of treatment Naomi had experienced for a minimum of a year with countless men they knew?

Ronan also had a mother and a sister. How could he justify any woman being treated like shit knowing the very same situation could have been visited upon them had they grown up under different circumstances in a poverty-stricken country?

He didn’t consider himself a saint and God knows he’d done his share of shit in the past. He’d used women, kicked them out, made them suck him off and tossed them to the side like garbage. However after what Naomi had been through, his whole perspective changed.

He didn’t judge his brothers for the way they treated women but that didn’t stop him from turning over a new leaf and being a better human being.

Besides, there were countless ways to make money and to sell another human being seemed to be one of the lowest of the low—whether or not the Feds had to make a fucking RICO case against a bunch of criminals or not.

Ronan was surprised he wasn’t late for the meeting but he made it just in time. It surprised him that besides the usual members, Max,
Mags
, Angelo and Raymond were also in attendance along with Erik
Kitaev
.

Hardy indicated for him to sit down. His arm was in a sling to ensure his injured shoulder healed correctly. The bullet he’d taken to the lung had affected him less than his shoulder due to the best medical care. His lung capacity was almost close to normal since the incident had forced him to quit smoking. That, along with physical therapy, had him at the prime shape of his life.

Ronan sat down and immediately shook out a cigarette from his pack of Camels before he lit it.

“How’s
Nomes
?” Hardy wondered, opening the meeting with an unusual question.

“Layla’s with her. She’s . . . well, she’s suffering from PTSD and still fucked up by what Fernando did to her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t understand why they can’t get anything to stick against this motherfucker. I mean, he’s still
chillin
’ in Ensenada and Naomi is always in complete and utter freak out mode. What the fuck? If he could do what he wanted and get away with it then what’s not to detour him from doin’ it again but with some chick no one gives a fuck about?”

Angelo chuckled. “We work with the government, son. You can look at it one of two ways: you got your woman back and she was able to retire from the DEA. You’re engaged to be married and God blessed you with two healthy children she’s pregnant with now.”

“Or?” Ronan questioned coldly.

“You can let that shit eat at you. The world we live in isn’t fair to anyone. You think those poor bitches on that fucking cargo ship comin’ over here are gettin’ a fair shake?
Nando’s
an agent and he’s got a handler who believes he’s still a great asset. He may be a sick fuck but most of us in the underworld aren’t the most well-adjusted people,” Raymond explained in a calm voice.

“Are either one of you agents?” Cricket questioned out loud.

Raymond and Angelo looked at each other before they turned toward Max and
Mags
who laughed out loud.

“No,” Raymond replied. “We got the same handlers as you.
Nando’s
handler is just in charge of the
Aztecas Infierno
members. It’s the reason why Carlito hasn’t been captured. He’s making a deal right now. Emilio refuses so you could probably exact some kind of revenge against the old man but Fernando will always remain untouchable. It’s just the way they work. A RICO case trumps everything—even the victims who are severely affected.”

Ronan dragged on his cigarette. “Who is Fernando’s handler ’cause God knows I would like to strangle the son of a bitch!”

Hardy flexed his jaw hard before he banged the gavel down harder than necessary. “This meeting isn’t about what’s going on with the case against
Aztecas Infierno
. It’s about our venture into a new business: prostitution. The first shipment of women we will be arriving here in Vegas soon and this is something we have to discuss to make sure everyone wants to be actively involved, yeah? The place of business has already been established. It’s an old-style Ranch house near the edge of Las Vegas proper in the Northwest.”

“There are ten women who are coming here to Vegas,” Erik began in a deep, commanding voice with a slight East coast accent. “Altogether, around forty women are on the shipment. It’s hard because you have to understand we don’t want any accidents to happen. I could bring more but
Kitaev
is a trusted name in Eastern Europe.”

Ronan snickered. “So, are we changin’ the
meanin
’ of trafficking? Are these women bein’ brought over here against their will? Yes. Or. No? I assure you it’s not a trick question.”

Erik glanced at him with steel-gray eyes. “They sign contracts. They get a small deposit up front so they can leave their families with money. They have to pay back a debt and they know what is expected of them once they arrive here. There will be no runaway attempts. These are decent women—all between the age of eighteen and twenty-five. They come from impoverished backgrounds and have children, parents and grandparents to take care of back home. It is a choice between this or a shitty factory job and they choose option A instead.

“They work here for three years. All of them will be rotated every year. Raymond is taking twenty of them to northern Nevada and ten of them are staying in Santa Monica where I have a place of business. Every year, the Vegas women will be transferred to northern Nevada along with the girls in Santa Monica. Ten of the northern Nevadan girls will be transferred to Malibu and ten to Vegas. The third year, the girls who have been to both northern Nevada and Malibu will go to Vegas, those who have worked Vegas and Malibu will go to northern Nevada. A sound plan—don’t you think?”

“What about friendships that are bound to form? Or women who men will pay double to keep around?” Cricket questioned out loud.

Erik swigged from a bottle of water. “Those will be case-by-case scenarios the three of us—Hardy, Raymond and I—will discuss when the time comes. What’s important is that we keep the women clean. No drugs—alcohol is fine though—and the women must submit to weekly examinations.

“They are not allowed more than ten clients per day. They will work five days a week with two days off. They will also be on birth control to prevent them from having periods at all. They will be granted one week of vacation time per year but they will stay on the premises or be escorted into town by local muscle. And at the end of three years, they are let go and given the amount of fifty thousand dollars.”

“So, in other words, these women aren’t
truly
being trafficked if we’re paying them and they know what they are expected to do.”

“Cricket, they’re coming over as illegal immigrants. Their compensation is fifty thousand dollars for three years—”

“Bro, they come from countries where some factory workers make two hundred bucks a month or somethin’. If I had a choice between whoring my ass out or working my fingers to the bone, I know what I’d do.”

“You’re not having an attack . . . of conscience, are you?”
Mags
wondered out loud, her pale green eyes expressionless. “We’re not exactly running legitimate businesses, Ronan. If the Vice Presidential seat is too much for you then perhaps Hardy should think about seeking a replacement?”

His violet-blue eyes glared at the bitch with daggers. He’d never liked her—too hard for a woman like she always had something to prove—and right now, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Was she questioning his authority and making everyone else question his abilities too?

“No offense—you being Max’s old lady and all—but don’t
ever
question my authority when it comes to the club,” Ronan began, his tone icy and cold as an Eskimo’s dick. “This is our business and I’m just making sure that everything is gonna be copacetic. We’ve already had issues trusting the wrong people. Between
Aztecas Infierno
and
Koslakov
, we damn near lost all control of our whole way of life thanks to the Feds. I just wanna know that isn’t gonna happen again.

“If I’m asking too many questions, it’s because I know what can happen when shit goes pear-shaped. My old lady was damn near killed by a maniac son of a bitch who is still walkin’ free and we almost lost our president for the Vegas charter. So excuse-fuckin’-me if I’m a bit skittish about walkin’ into yet
another
situation that could turn into a shit storm.”

Hardy nodded. “The VP’s concerns are duly noted. However, this operation is bigger than just the Saints. If we were the only ones involved, your words would carry a lot more weight but due to us bringin’ in outside muscle—the
Kitaev
Bratva
not to mention Angelo Abandonato, Raymond Jackson and their two top associates,
Maksymilian
Gillespie and Magnolia Abandonato-Gillespie—this is no longer a club decision alone.”

He paused and cleared his throat before he continued, “The brothers do have a say in the vote but so do our partners. If—by chance—our partners agree and enough brothers don’t then the deal will still go through. I’m not sayin’ you have to like what’s gonna happen but you will go along with it or you’ll find another chapter to transfer to . . . and if you decide to do that, a brother from that chapter has to agree to transfer here.”

“So, you’re givin’ us an opportunity to just walk away?” Cricket questioned incredulously. “Not to say that I would ’cause I’m not. I got an old lady I need to take care of and this deal sits fine with me. I got no qualms with it.”

“Yes, you can walk away.” Hardy looked around the table before his eyes settled on Ronan’s again. “What’s it gonna be brother? I know you’ve had a tough few months and no one is gonna disrespect you for not
wantin
’ to go through with this shite but it’s business . . . pure and simple. You in or out?”

Ronan didn’t even bother to hesitate before he nodded his head affirmatively. “I got an old lady and two kids on the way. We’re settled in Vegas and she ain’t ready to go
no where
. Neither am I. As the VP of this club, either I move up, stay where I am but I plan to ride or die here till the motherfuckin’ wheels come off, brother. I’m in.”

He tuned Hardy out as he went around the table. It was full of “Yeas” and not a goddamn “Nay” in the joint. Everyone was too busy counting how much money they were going to make and how much easier it would be to make it on pussy rather than drugs.

Ronan would be lying to himself if he didn’t count himself as one of the motherfuckers who was thinking the same way.

The Saints had always been one tough club but they were about to come into their own—this time with the Vegas charter at the helm.

Chapter Ten

Naomi

I
sat outside on a lounger, facing the pool and caressed my growing stomach. With twins, I was showing so much quicker than if I were carrying a singleton. Lately, Ronan had been busy with “club business.” There was a time when I would have asked about what was going on but that time had come and gone.

I was officially retired from the Drug Enforcement Agency with honors due to “traumatic injuries sustained while on duty.” That was what my ordeal with Fernando was considered. Rape, torture and exposure to God knows what kind of fertility drugs wasn’t enough. Instead, I was retired with a full pension yet I still didn’t know whose children were growing inside my belly. My fiancé’s or the monster that had humiliated me beyond all sense of understanding or full comprehension.

I’d endured more than any human being should have had to live through yet if I’d been one of Michael Vick’s injured pit bulls, I would have been treated better. Instead, the same government I’d served time and again had thrown me to the wolves and basically told me to “suck it up.”

I was far from being a wimp or someone of weak disposition.

If the situation involved only me, I could deal with it and move the fuck on. I wasn’t looking for pity or sympathy. I wasn’t an attention whore and I hated what I continued to put Ronan through with my mood swings.

The poor guy probably didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Hell, I couldn’t even blame my current situation on pregnancy hormones. I was an out of control, psycho bitch because PTSD was a monkey on my back I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

I wasn’t suicidal but I might have been suffering from infanticide tendencies. I was ready to undergo an abortion at a moment’s notice to get rid of these monsters growing inside of me.

My poor, fractured mind couldn’t deal with the consequences of them being Ronan’s. We’d tried forever and a day—and nothing. Then some sick bastard comes along, shoots me up with fertility drugs and rapes me repeatedly and—
boom!
—I’m pregnant with not one baby but twins?

I wasn’t buying that explanation, not even for a second.

These little bastards belonged to Fernando and I would be damned if I would grant him his wish.

He was busy living high on the hog. Still in his gorgeous palace in Ensenada probably torturing a few Eastern European women brought to Mexico via human trafficking. Biding his time . . . waiting for the perfect opportunity until Ronan and I decided to let our guard down. Then he would strike.

I wasn’t an idiot.

He had powerful handlers in the Federal government. Someone was protecting him because he meant more out on the street than in any prison cell. He would never see the insides of Florence ADX except to visit his brother and even then, he had nothing to fear. They would never lock him up and he would get away with what he’d done to me.

He’d escaped the attempted shooting and murdering of Hardy Cox, another Federal agent, with impunity. Someone powerful protected him with their lives, otherwise he would have gone down ages ago.

For some reason, he wasn’t expendable and I desperately wanted to know why.

Layla was in charge of taking care of me during the day but I let her do whatever she had to do and she let me get away with murder. I’d contacted Trey Lennon and he’d sent me all the information he was able to download illegally from the CIA’s computer. It’d almost caused his system to crash but he shrugged it off as we
PM’d
one another. He was willing to do whatever it took to help me find some semblance of peace of mind.

“Granted, I haven’t looked at any of the info,
Nomes
,” he said as we spoke on the phone after I got tired of the incessant
PM’ing
.

“Trey, you downloaded it and damn near got your computer fried. I thought you would be able to tell me something about what to expect in the file you sent me,” I replied as I looked over my shoulder.

Layla was nowhere in sight so that was definitely a good thing.

He sighed on the end of the line. “Listen, sometimes I do take a peak but this wasn’t a job for me. Babe, you’re Ronan’s old lady and my future sister-in-law. This wasn’t a gig—this is strictly between you and me. Hell, I’m not even gonna charge you ’cause of what you been through.”

“Come on, don’t treat me special because I’m not,” I replied before I forced a laugh to follow. “As DEA, we know what to expect. We’re not stupid. I was U.S. Air Force before that. I’m not fuckin’ china, Trey.”

 
“I never said you were but the job I did for you would cost you mega-bucks. As in, you got a spare fifty thousand around you can part with?” he questioned nonchalantly.

I scoffed. “I do but it’s in a safe deposit box and I can’t leave home without an escort. Layla Burns would definitely tattle-tale if I went to the bank while she’s looking after me.”

“Listen, all I can tell you is
who ever
the Feds have lookin’ after Fernando are ultra-classified. If they are an agent we deal with then they are so motherfuckin’ deep undercover then we don’t even know
who
they are.”

“They aren’t that classified,” I retorted smartly. “Ronan said she spoke with his handler the day they came to rescue me. She called him, ‘Des.’ That’s all he could remember.”

“Oh shit. Holy . . . shit!” Trey stopped talking but she could hear him hyperventilating on the other end. “Listen, I gotta go. Good luck and God speed.”

“Wait!” I said in a frantic voice. “Do you know who this person is?”

“Yeah, and if you weren’t so frazzled nowadays, you’d know who it is too. In fact, you’re about to find out. You can’t kill him or even
threaten
him. Maybe you can still get your much-wanted revenge though it won’t be against Fernando.”

“Okay—”

“Listen, I have to go! Take care and when you see the name, don’t freak.”

The line went dead and I ended the call before I set my Samsung Note down. I refused to own the new Apple—although I’d always been an iPhone girl. After witnessing my abductor use it as a burner phone, just looking at the new devices made me sick to my stomach.

My mind raced with the possibilities before I opened up my MacBook Pro and began to wade through all the information Trey had sent me.

I knew exactly what I was looking for and there it was in black and white:

Name:
Fernando Etienne van der Waal-Navarro

DOB:
November 13, 1980

Place of Birth:
Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico

Race:
Caucasian (White European)

Nationality:
Mexican

Aliases / Passports in Use (LEGAL):
Juan Hernandez (Mexico), Guillaume Rousseau (Belgium), Esteban Amador (Spain), Michael
Andrelli
(United States), Peter Finney (United Kingdom)

Father:
Ricardo Emilio Fernando Navarro [Birthplace: Gibraltar; Mother: Maria Carmelita Navarro / Father: Sean Finney]

Mother:
Amelie Boucher van der Waal [Birthplace: Bruges, Belgium; Mother: Danielle Boucher-van der Waal / Father: Johan van der Waal]

Status:
Double informant/agent for both Secret Intelligence Services and the Federal Bureau of Investigations

American Handler [FBI]:
Christian Kerrigan (formerly known as Tristan Lennon)

British Handler [SIS]:
Desmond Cox (formerly known as Desmond Patrick Lennon)

I damn near fell off my chair.

Shit on a stick and fall back in it. The people I trusted the most were directly responsible for my abductor and had been protecting him the whole time.

How the fuck was I supposed to feel about this when there was nothing I could and little to stop the damage already done?

I had no choice. A call to Dizzy was in order.

“I
have been waitin’ to hear from ya
every
since you got back from Mexico.” Dizzy’s voice was full of contrition though I couldn’t be sure he was sorry about everything that went down in Baja California.

“You mean with your psycho agent?” I questioned, trying my best to keep my anger at bay. “I mean, it’s not completely your fault he flipped the fuck out and attacked me, is it? You didn’t order him to do that. You’re only one of two handlers he has to keep him under control. What the fuck is Tristan Lennon—sorry, Christian Kerrigan—doing when you’re doing your job may I ask?”

“Darlin’, you’re expectin’ my grandchildren. You shouldn’t over exert yourself—”

“No, we aren’t sure of that, Dizzy, because that maniac fucked me six ways to Sunday, injected me with fertility drugs and expects me to be pregnant with his babies!” I finally exclaimed with uncontained fury. “So, I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to lose my temper but I am fuckin’ pissed the fuck off. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tell all of this sordid shit to Ronan. One. Reason.”

The older man sighed out loud. “You think I’m a fuckin’
muppet
? I wouldn’t dare expose me son to the same issues I dealt with when Bronaugh was raped by the IRA. I got your blood tests right here—taken a couple days before you were abducted. You weren’t
ovulatin
’ ’cause you were already pregnant.