Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) (15 page)

“Stop
hatin
’ me grandchildren and
contemplatin
’ abortion because you would be throwin’ away Coxes. Not one of those kids in your belly belongs to a fuckin’ Navarro. And if I hear of you
wantin
’ to kill me grandchildren again, I might
he
forced to make Ronan a widower. That what you want?”

“No,” I whispered in a quiet voice. “I want fucking revenge against what that bastard did to me.”

“Sorry but that can’t be done. He’s one of my best agents and I refuse to lose him. He knows about shite you can’t even begin to fathom because the DEA doesn’t know about it. Cartels that are forcing their drugs into the UK and the United States—human trafficking and other illegal operations that will all be granted access to all agencies via RICO. Eve is FBI—I’m SIS—whether I wanna be or not. I can’t even begin to apologize to you for what Fernando put you through but as far as the American and British government are concerned, the ends always justify the means.”

 
“They do, don’t they? And trump everything else, even human decency and good will toward your fellow man . . . or woman,” I bit out. “Listen, I know I don’t have any clearance—what with me being a civilian and all—but I need to speak to Emilio.”

Dizzy’s silence worried me as my heart thudded in my chest. “What makes you think Ronan is going to allow you to fly to Colorado on your own?”

“Because you’re not going to tell him.” I licked my dry lips, creating a pregnant pause. “Do you know how badly your son wants Fernando dead? I do because I
live
with him. What
Nando
did to me—yeah, I’m fucked up behind it only because I thought he’d gotten me pregnant. Now you tell me this isn’t so, I can let go. I forgive him. I know that seems foolish of me but he was the first man I ever loved—the relationship that introduced me to womanhood and made me forget childish ways. For God’s sake, he broke my virginity.

“You don’t understand—the Irish never do and neither do the Italians or the Russians—but we Mexicans are capable of great vengeance . . . and the powerful ability to forgive. Perhaps we are more evolved than you or maybe it’s because we’ve
lost
so much. Our land, our freedom, our language, our roots . . . they are beginning to blend with the gringos and we’re okay with that. In the end, we know we’ll have the numbers on
our
side.”

 
Dizzy breathed deeply on the other end. “And you are all right with all of this? Despite Fernando not being Mexican—”

“He is by birth—and he identifies with the culture. It makes no difference his parents are European by birth. He knows nothing about that continent, not really. He only carries the passports by accidental ethnicity—nothing else. Believe me when I tell you
Nando
is Mexican through and through. He would live and die for that land, the culture . . . and the people.”

“Including you?” Dizzy teased out loud. “Don’t think his . . . fondness for you has escaped me. He’s still very much in love with you—”

“I said I forgave him. I don’t want anything to do with him and I never want to see him again or I will blow his fucking head off and face the consequences, Desmond.” I counted to three and calmed myself down. “I really need to see Emilio. Not for revenge or anything like that. I have to know . . .”

“Know what?”

“If Fernando truly has sold him out . . . and turned his back on him,” I finally replied.

T
he day I walked into Florence ADX—also known as
Supermax
—was a moment in my life I wouldn’t easily forget. The security alone was enough to give one a permanent migraine. I was scanned at least half a dozen times before I even made it to a private room where I would meet Prisoner number A1341.

The letter was for the danger level and the number meant nothing since ADX didn’t hold a high number of prisoners. Emilio was considered a drug lord and head of a cartel therefore he was one of their least worst felons.
 
They had much worse—including terrorists who’d directly been involved with nine-eleven. A cartel leader was bad but not considered a threat to society in the scheme of the situation.

Ironically, Jonesy Hughes was also being held at the same prison but I wasn’t privy to his information or what number he’d been given.

The former leader of the Demon’s Bastards—now run by his son who’d taken over as National president. Although he would be in less than a year, he was considered more of a flight risk than Emilio Navarro. I didn’t know all the details except he’d made a deal in his case to greatly reduce his sentence.

Emilio Navarro—once in charge of the most notorious cartels in Mexico—looked strangely normal and sophisticated though he wore his orange jumpsuit and was shackled around the waist and ankles. He was placed across from me as we sat at a metal table and we quietly assessed one another—not talking, only staring.

Of average height, he stood at five feet, ten inches, a good half foot shorter than his brother. His skin, lightly olive toned and he possessed even less Spanish features than Fernando though his complexion gave away what was only a quarter of his ancestry.

It’d surprised me to find out his father had been the product of a rape between a Spanish woman and a British soldier of Irish origin. I could only deduce the gentleman had been “black Irish”—dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin—though it was obvious Emilio had inherited his father’s complexion while maintaining his mother’s Belgian looks.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to say to him or how to approach our conversation. None of this was his fault. I could hardly blame him for what Fernando had done to me when his brother’s sexual predilections had always been a sore spot in their relationship.

Emilio considered him a deviant and always hoped Carlito would run the family business one day. Whether or not his prophecy would actually become a reality was anyone’s guess. From what I’d heard along the grapevine, Carlito had secured Federal protection from the U.S. government and was now an informant with a handler, similar to his uncle.

“Naomi, I can only say how sorry I am about what you’ve been through,” Emilio finally greeted in a quiet voice. “I am able to keep up with what’s going on outside and what Fernando did to you . . . he should be quartered, shot and his body parts fed to a pack of wild boars.”

His words actually brought a smile to my face. “Fernando is what he is. I didn’t come here to talk about what he did to me. I’ve rehashed that story so many times in therapy, I’m sick of talking about it. What I really want to know is why won’t you turn State’s evidence to lessen your sentence? Your son and brother already have. If it’s because of loyalty to your
soldados
, don’t let that deter you. Everyone else is more interested in saving their own skin than the cartel.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied. “But even if I do become what you think would benefit me, Carlito and Fernando have already told the government what they wanted to hear. This was my operation, my planning and my doing. They were only following orders.”

“Bullshit!” I exclaimed. “Carlito was selling cocaine to the White Knights MC on the side. How could that have been on
your
orders when he purposely avoided using the cartel’s name? Are you willing to die for a bunch of thieves and liars with no honor or code? Do you think it is noble, rotting away in here while those two assholes get away with murder?”

Emilio smiled wryly. “Not especially but I’m no saint either. I’ve ordered the deaths of men, women and children; ran a ruthless cartel that cared about nothing but money. I am the man with no code or honor. This,” he said as he gestured around with his head, “is where I belong. I should spend the rest of my natural-born life.

“Sometimes, we don’t do things to benefit other people but ourselves and this is my penance after a life of crime and cruelty. I don’t deserve to live with the good people of the world on the outside. My son and brother are cowards and care more about themselves than anyone else but that isn’t me. Can you honestly believe I have found God in this place? I am studying to become a Catholic priest with the blessing of the Pope himself.”

I almost did a double take but stopped myself in time. “I’m sorry . . . a priest? You’ve admitted yourself you’ve committed heinous acts yet you believe you would make a good priest?”

“Well, I’ve never fondled any twelve-year-old boys and I certainly have never raped or molested anyone underage. I’ve given the Roman Catholic Church over half a billion dollars. Although I do not believe I am buying my way into the priesthood, I hardly think if I hadn’t made such a generous gift to the Vatican my application would have been considered at all,” he explained in calm voice.

“Don’t you think that makes you a better candidate than either one of your brothers to help the government?”

Emilio laughed out loud. “By doing more lying, stealing, killing and thieving because the ends justify the means? No, I don’t. I truly believe I can be more help to the men in here than I can on the outside. I’m no snitch but I have confessed to my crimes—both to my priest and the government. They don’t plan to seek the death penalty but I have been sentenced to ten counts of thirty years to life—all to run concurrently. I don’t know about you but ain’t no pill out there that has bought anyone no three hundred plus years of extra life. I’m just shy of fifty and I may have another twenty-five or thirty years left. I got no qualms about spending that time here.”

We managed to speak for another few minutes before we ran out of time and I had to leave. As I reached the door, I looked back and smiled. “Take care of yourself. I suppose if I look at it from your point of view, you’re the luckiest one of all. At least your conscience is clear even if you are behind bars for the rest of your natural life.”

He nodded as two guards held on to him in preparation to take him back to his cell. “Hey, it works for me. When my time comes, I feel safe knowing that the Lord will receive me with open arms and accept me as one of His blessed children. I have done my time and paid my dues. I fear nothing or no one, not even death anymore. What my son and brother do are not of my concern. They will have to deal with the Grim Reaper when their time comes and if their conscience isn’t clear—that’s on them, not me.”

As I left Florence ADX, a calmness came over me and a feeling of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time moved me from the inside out.

It was time I left the demons behind.

If I truly wanted a healthy relationship with Ronan then I would have to move on and accept his decision. He wanted our children whether they were his by blood or not.

I smiled as I opened the truck and hopped inside.

For the first time I realized I wanted these babies too.

Chapter Eleven

Ronan

T
he chill coming off the water in Long Beach along with the stench of diesel and pollution surrounded Ronan like a thick fog. Although it was fifty degrees, it felt cooler and for the first time, he wished he was wearing more than a thin long sleeved black cotton t-shirt with his leather cut over it.

He wore leather gloves not only because they were perfect for the weather but it prevented fingerprints too.

Although he was only there as an observer, he couldn’t admit how fucking sad the whole situation was to him. If he had daughters, never in a million years would he want them to be one of the scared, miserable-looking bitches who were disembarking from the boat that had brought them so far from their homeland.

God knows how they ended up in Rotterdam but they all looked out of it and frightened out of their wits.

Had Erik
Kitaev
lied to them about whether they knew exactly what they were doing and what was going on? If he had, he could start counting the days—weeks—he’d be alive because both Raymond and Angelo had a stake in this operation.

Obviously, the big men on campus weren’t there to put themselves in harm’s way. Max and
Mags
were there to oversee Raymond’s shipment of women.

They’d left the vast majority of the dirty work to the Saints—that included Hardy, Cricket, Kink, Cillian, Quinn, Bookie and himself. Layla had also come along for the ride since the Saints got first dibs at picking out the ten women who would be the first to try out their new venture. Heaven’s Saints would be the first brothel the club would ever operate. It was purely an experiment and if it didn’t go well, it would be the first and only whore house the club would ever have. If it did do well, there was talk of another location in Birch Tree and another in Glendale.

As long as they didn’t poach on Raymond’s territory, they could do what they wanted. The man had no objections as long as their operation wouldn’t mess with his bottom line.

Hardy patted down his cut and then his jeans before he swore, “Fuck! I need a goddamn fag right now, it’s
killin
’ me.”

“Well, you know what Talia would say about that—no smoking.” Ronan smirked as his
prez
hit the back of his head playfully.

“Thanks, Mum. I’ll keep that under advisement.”

“Should you be moving your shoulder like that? Where’s your sling, Grandpa?”

“Fuck off!” Hardy exclaimed good-naturedly. “My shoulder is fuckin’ fine, thank you very much. Actually, the docs did a damn good job
patchin
’ me up. It only hurts to take a breath every once and a while and my shoulder only pains me on cold nights like this. Other than that, I’m in tip-top.”

“In that case, you should be happy you aren’t smokin’. It’s a nasty habit, anyway.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,
Dad
.”

Ronan and Hardy looked at one another before they laughed out loud and followed the women to a warehouse at Long Beach Port where they would be divided onto different transport trucks.

Layla, already there and speaking quietly to Erik pointed out the ten women she wanted to be shipped to Vegas.

She was ultimately methodical in her process, choosing several natural blondes, a few brunettes, a couple redheads and two exotic-looking women. One looked like she had some Asian blood flowing through her while the other clearly appeared to have a touch of the “tar brush.”

Ronan raised one of his eyebrows. “Mmm, I didn’t think they did much mixing in Eastern Europe.”

“Are you as dumb as you look or do you just act that way?” Hardy questioned in an exasperated voice. “How many trips have you taken to Eastern Europe?”

“None.”

“Well then, you wouldn’t know that the women can look like
anything
, really. There are women who have been in the outside world and although there isn’t a ton of immigration, there is
some
. Eastern Europe isn’t some lily-white place filled with doe-eyed women. If you’ve ever been to Albania, you’d know that some of them could be downright dark—a la almost
Mediterranean
in the looks department. You’re hard pressed to find a blonde in a place like Albania for instance—at least not a
natural
one,” Hardy explained in a cold voice.

“Aren’t these chicks supposed to be from Belarus, Russia and the Ukraine?”

“Yeah, they are but that doesn’t mean migration doesn’t happen,
me
son.”

Layla waved them over and they strolled toward her before they stopped abruptly a few feet away.

“As you can see, I have excellent taste in women. They will be huge money makers for the Saints’ new venture,” she stated with confidence.

“Yes, they will.” Ronan smirked. “How were you able to know which ones will do well for the club?”

Layla smiled wryly. “Easy. My mother was a Saint slapper. My dad decided to make an honest woman of her but . . . after I was born . . . she didn’t have it in her to change her ways. She still slept around and then got introduced to some grade-A heroin. This was during the nineties when it was makin’ a comeback. Once she got strung out, my dad divorced her but she still hung around the club. She was never my mom—only
Dasha
. So when she died, it wasn’t a big deal for me. Hell, I was happy to see her go. I thought at least she’s in a better place and hopefully she found the peace she was so desperately searching for.”

Ronan understood Layla that much more and for her being so candidly honest with them, he gained a newfound respect for her.

Max and
Mags
approached them wearily. They both looked dead on their feet but still lethal never-the-less.

“What’s up?” Ronan questioned.

“Nothing,”
Mags
replied nonchalantly. “We chose Raymond’s girls so we’re heading to LAX. We’ll take a plane to Reno and meet the shipment there. After all the girls are checked over, they’ll go to their respective destinations and life will go on as usual.”

“We gotta get back to Birch Tree anyway,” Cillian replied. “We’ve already spoken to Raymond and we’re supposed to make sure the transfer truck makes its way to its desired location. You two take care of your end and we’ll take care of ours.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Max responded facetiously.

“Are you sure we’re related because except for our eerie resemblance and eye color, you’re nothing like me,” Kink said with a smirk.

Bookie chuckled. “Dude, have you been smokin’ crack? You two are
exactly
alike. Hell, you scare us sometimes. Seriously, the only thing different about Max from you is he’s a hell of lot more cold blooded than you could ever be but that’s because I believe the right people haven’t pissed you off yet.”

“That ain’t me, brother. Only thing Max and I shared was a womb for nine months and the same parents.” Kink exclaimed in mock annoyance.

“Actually, you’re wrong because the two of you share a hell of a lot more than that,” Cricket replied. “If I hadn’t known you my whole life, I would still know you and Max are siblings right off the bat ’cause you are way more alike than different.”

“You know what? Fuck you and your five-minute assessment. You don’t know shit!” Kink said in an icy tone and walked off in a huff while Ronan, Hardy, Cricket and even Max laughed out loud.

“Come on, fellas. Time to hit the road,” Cillian said as he adjusted his gloves. “I got an old lady and kids to get home to.”

“Mmm, you and me both,” Ronan replied under his breath as he climbed on the back on his Harley and prepared to take off.

R
onan walked into the house shortly after three in the morning. His eyes felt grainy and he was beyond tired. As he closed the front door, locked it and walked through the hallway, Naomi almost scared the crap out of him as she walked down the staircase and paused at the bottom step.

“Babe, what are you doin’ up? You should be gettin’ some rest.”

The look on her face wasn’t quite readable. “Where were you? You said you had some club business to take care of. I expected you home hours ago. You left early this morning.”

“
Nomes
, you know how it is,” he replied, avoiding her stare. “Club business can take all day sometimes. I didn’t realize I had to check in with you in order to do my job.”

“I don’t expect you to check in but you could have called me.” She walked up to him and pressed her face into his neck. “I was worried—that’s all. Surely you don’t think I’m checking up on you, do you?”

Ronan felt bad about snapping at her. Sometimes he forgot it hadn’t been that long ago she’d been through a traumatic and stressful period in her life. Not to mention her pregnancy. If anyone was acting like they had something to hide, it was him, not her.

“Sorry, babe.” He wrapped his arms around her waist before he kissed her forehead. “It’s this new venture. I just don’t know . . . what the fuck I’m doin’ anymore. I’ve never questioned the club or any decision they’ve made but this? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just gettin’ too old for this ‘shoot ’em up’ shit.”

Naomi pulled away before she broke into laughter. “You’re not even thirty yet. What are you talking about? What new venture?”

Ronan couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to tell her the truth. He realized he was deeply ashamed and that was a first for him.

He licked his dry lips before he replied in a quiet voice, “Human trafficking.”