Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) (5 page)

I took a deep breath and focused on the main reason why I was here in the first place. It certainly wasn’t to catch up on how my former lover was getting on now that he no longer had Emilio as his protection.

“Are you . . . frightened?” he questioned in a gentle voice. “You know I would never hurt you . . . not intentionally.”

I glanced at Fernando and realized why I’d been attracted to him in the first place. His skin, alabaster pale without a hint of color, suited his mélange of European features. His face was a work of art. Good looking and sexy—almost effeminate—with his Roman nose, cheekbones sculpted from artwork and beautifully full pink lips.

There was absolutely nothing about him that screamed gangster or cartel member.

However, it wasn’t his perfect physique or his gorgeous face, which ended a relationship that had lasted almost four years. It was the lies, jealousy and constant ability to be unfaithful—on his part—that put paid to anything between him and me. He liked his women but he also liked his men too. His version of fidelity and mine weren’t exactly the same.

Fernando believed if he fucked a man while I was deployed, he wasn’t cheating on me. I couldn’t stand his way of thinking and eventually, his poor choices—not his bisexuality—ended whatever existed between us.

In spite all the history between us, Fernando knew a lot about me, and what made me tick. That made him a very dangerous and unsavory adversary indeed but in the end, what choice did I have?

If it was between him and Ronan, I knew exactly whom I would choose without a doubt.

“Did you really have to bring that
gringo
,
mi
corazón
? We were intimate at one time and I would have murdered any man who even
looked
at you the wrong way. Do you really believe I am capable of hurting you?”

I shook my head. “He
insisted
on coming.”

My ex-lover was hardly a dim bulb and one of his manicured eyebrows arched inquisitively. “Tell me,
querido
. . . does your biker know about you and me?”

I rolled my eyes out of annoyance more than anger. “My God,
Nando
, stop all the Spanish words of affection and seduction. We both know you’re as fake as a four-dollar bill. Mexico is as much your home country as it would be mine.”

My ex-lover paused at this statement. He lit a cigarillo and dragged on it seductively as the smoke drifted away from his lips and towards the ceiling that pumped air conditioning through the open space.

“Ronan has no idea about your origins then?” He chuckled to himself as if he’d made the funniest joke in the world. “Does he think you’re just a run of the mill, round the way girl, Naomi Maria De La Cruz Washington Fernandez?”

I finally took a seat across from Fernando. “Yes, he does, and that makes everything so much easier.”

“For who . . . exactly—or should I say whom? Would he not want you if he knew both your parents were half-Mestizo? Two black grandmothers and two Mexican grandfathers. Your
español
is just as good—if not better—than mine. We’re the future of this country and yet . . . you deny who you
are
?”

“Fuck off,
Nando
.” My Latina roots were beginning to show and I quickly wrangled control over them. “Yes, two of my grandparents happened to be Mexican. In fact, I’m
more
of a Mexican than you—you big phony. Parading around like you are a man of
color
when in fact your father was from Spain and your mother was a white bitch from Belgium. Yeah, I might not go around proclaiming my Mexican roots but at least they’re
mine
. I’m not running around,
perpetrating
to be something I’m not.”

Fernando shrugged his shoulders apathetically. “Say what you will. I was born and raised in Mexico despite not being Mexican as you say. It is my country and the Mestizos
are
my people. What is ethnicity except random strains of DNA? It is what you feel in your bones and regardless whether my mother’s Belgian and my father is from the country of Spain, I
identify
as a Mexican.
Aztecas Infierno
is real. Our goal to become one of the most powerful cartels in Mexico is very much a reality. What are you going to do about it? What do you
want
, Naomi?”

“You know what the Feds want,
Nando
. They want
Aztecas Infierno
shut down; they want Carlito behind bars along with your brother, Emilio. Other than that, it’s all of the information I can offer you at the moment,” I responded in a cold and calculating voice.

He laughed out loud. Mocking, biting, and jarring to my ears.

“And this . . . is your ‘get out of jail free’ card? You take us down and DEA lets you go? You get to ride off into the sunset with that piece of trash and what do I receive in return? A failed empire and family members who will never see the light of day? They’ve got some nerve sending you to do a
man’s
job.”

“
Excuse
me?”

“You’re weak, Naomi. The DEA was stupid for taking you on in the first place. You haven’t got a clue what you’re doing, sweetheart, and we both know it.”

I stood at that point and glared down at Fernando, my hands planted firmly on his ornate, antique desk. “You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

He shrugged again apathetically. “Maybe I do . . . maybe I don’t but I
know
what I see. This assignment is too big for someone like you. I know you have superiors. Probably that Eve Kerrigan bitch put you up to this because she needs a few more pieces in her goddamn puzzle. You’re expendable,
mi
amado
.
 
If you die during this mission, you mean
nada
.
 
No one will mourn for you except your
precious
Ronan . . . and me.”

“You’re lying,” I replied without an ounce of conviction.

“Am I?” Those amber-green eyes burned into mine with such fierce and determined intensity, I forced myself to look away. “I would mourn for you because I still love you. I still want and desire you—it’s the only reason you’re alive. If I felt nothing for you—I would have murdered you a long time ago.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.” My eyes wandered to his while he glared back at me with heartless, ice-cold eyes.

He was no longer thinking about me like a former lover but as a mark he could acquire information from with little effort on his part.

“What I want you to do is find out what Eve wants.” He dragged lazily from his cigarillo. “If all she desires is my nephew then I’ll give him up—no problem. The cartel doesn’t just stop because one of our own is behind bars. Hell, Emilio is running the whole thing from ADX Florence and he’s in a secure unit. We can pay crooked guards, exchange messages—hell, they let the bastard have a computer for Christ’s sake. I sent him a MacBook Air of course. That way it’s easier for me to post shit in our Cloud account for his eyes only. The guards are so stupid, they don’t even know what’s goin’ on.”

“And if I don’t,” I retorted boldly.

“
Los
resultados
no se
ven
muy
bien
,
cariño
.” Fernando raised concerned eyebrows before his cold, dead eyes looked into the distance. “I would have to retaliate but not in the way that would affect the Feds. However, I could punish you and . . . neither of us want that.”

Fuck, he was right. I knew all the ways he could make me suffer and none of them would end with a fairytale ending for anyone I cared about.

All the sudden, I felt so small in his presence—like a bug he could easily squash and not think two seconds about what he’d done.

“What do you want from me?”

“I told you what I wanted from you—”

“No! You told me what you wanted me to do. What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?”

“Haven’t made up my mind yet.
Mira
, tonight isn’t a good night to discuss anything, all right? I wanna have some fun and live it up. We meet one week from today. Bring your biker pals if they make you feel safe. In the meantime, tell your gringo we ironed out some deals and we’ll be meeting later on in the week. That’s what he’ll report back to Eve anyway. Unless, you want him to know about our history—is that it?”

My mind quickly calculated Ronan’s short, Irish temper and I shook my head quickly. “No, of course not. That’ll work. I can do that.”

Fernando smiled weakly. “Well, see you in a week then.”

I stood and one of my hands immediately grabbed his left wrist. “Please . . . if you ever loved me at, promise you won’t tell Ronan about you and me. He’s volatile and unpredictable. Even his own brothers and father can’t control him.”

“Well, you always did have a weak spot for the possessive, alpha male. Just make sure you reel yours in if he wants to make it to his thirtieth birthday.”

I nodded my head, rendered speechless.

It would kill me if anything ever happened to Ronan.

True, I could honestly say I still had feelings for Fernando but I was in love with Ronan. My problem wasn’t love but sexual attraction.

Ronan and I had an active sex life. Who was I kidding? The man was kinky as fuck and I loved every minute I spent between the sheets, the shower and everywhere else we managed to have sex.

Unfortunately, Fernando—not Ronan—had introduced my kinkiness to me. He was my first love and first boyfriend. Before him, I didn’t know anything about sex except the basics of course.

Ménage a
trois
, double penetration, anal intercourse, sex toys, flavored lubes and the extreme kink—including BDSM—I’d been subjected to in real life and through the viewing of porn films happened while Fernando and I were together.

I’d witnessed him fuck other men and women along with group sex and the actual filming of adult movies during the four years we’d been together. If I was an innocent virgin who knew nothing before we met, by the time I ended our relationship, I could honestly communicate what I wanted and desired sexually from my partner.

The problem with deviating from what “society” considered normal intercourse was it was impossible to go back to the norm. I sought people out who had the same sexual proclivities I did and I got lucky.

I never had to whore myself out.

We knew each other—just by a casual glance.

Ronan’s unusual sexual activities spoke to me before he even said a word to me. It was there; embedded in those gorgeous violet-blue eyes and he recognized it in me.

The first time he took me to a club party where open sex occurred, various women were being tag-teamed by members, I didn’t even flinch. I remembered grabbing a drink, snorting a few lines of cocaine with Ronan and Kink before we found a dark corner to make out. When one of his hands slid my panties to the side while his other caressed my breast and he pressed me against the wall, I spread my legs further and allowed him to fuck me.

It didn’t matter that anyone could have walked by and saw us even if his strong body shielded my own. We fucked like two primal beings and I remembered coming so hard, I thought I would pass out.

Just the memory of us together—our first time—had my breath accelerated and my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Fernando was poison and if I wasn’t careful, he would drag me right back to the world I’d fought my whole life to escape.

Chapter Three

Ronan

R
onan knocked back another Jack Daniels, his fifth in a row. He nursed a Budweiser and looked around the fancy ass dance club.

What the fuck was taking Naomi so long? He hated to think what that freak was talking to her about although the irony didn’t escape him.

No, he wasn’t deviated enough to allow a man to suck his cock on the outside but when he’d served his time, a hole was a motherfuckin’ hole. Yes, he’d fucked guys—condoms were a must—and he’d allowed inmates to go down on him.

Time inside could be lonely and with no woman nearby and no conjugal visits, he did what he had to do to pass the time until he could get the fuck out.

Naomi knew all about it and that was the cool thing about his girl. She didn’t judge him at all. She listened when he talked about his complicated life, his fucked up temper and how he couldn’t control it sometimes.

The doctors had diagnosed him with anger issues but it was much more serious than that. His parents and siblings liked to tease him about it but, technically, he suffered from a mild form of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder with higher than normal levels of testosterone and levels of aggression.

Ritalin didn’t do shit for him so he never took it. In fact, he tended to indulge in anti-depressants more than he did drugs that should have made him feel normal. He swallowed Ativan and Xanax like they were candy and drank way too much but what the fuck—the life he lived was
hard
.

There was a reason why most MC vice presidents weren’t as young as him. It was a stressful job; add to that he helped to run the second largest chapter in the country. Las Vegas was right behind Birch Tree in terms of power and prestige. They had a lot of members and they were responsible for everything that went on in Clark County.

Despite the new position and all the stress it involved, he wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world. It was better than being in
Bumfuck
Glendale where fuck all happened and members left the club like they had a bad dose of the clap. They couldn’t build alliances; he and Hardy were pretty much on their own. They had no respect and
Aztecas Infierno
ran all over them like they were a couple of bitches just waiting to be spread over and fucked on a daily basis.

Hardy grabbed his shoulder, knocking him out of past memories with a crash.

“Here she comes now,” he said casually.

Ronan glanced up to watch his gorgeous angel sashay her ass down the stairs from the VIP room and his dick instantly got hard. It didn’t matter what he did to his body, he was never too wasted he couldn’t fuck his own chick.

She didn’t look nervous or afraid but something was going on behind those honey-amber eyes. Her smile, genuine and infectious, immediately put him at ease but he wondered what that taco-eating motherfucker had said to her. Not that it mattered; once they were back at the clubhouse, it would be discussed.

“You ready to get out of here?” He grabbed her waist as soon as she was within distance and held her close.

“Yeah.” She turned toward Hardy. “Shit’s about to get
real
ugly and we need to prepare for it. This can’t wait. I have to speak with you two tonight.”

“
Yeh
, okay. Tal’s got some shit ta handle with that fuckin’ loser sperm donor so we’re good. We’ll go to chapel as soon as we get back—”

“Only this stays between you, Ronan and me—all right? I’m not tryin’ to be a bitch or put the club in danger but the fewer people who know what’s goin’ down, the better, you got me?”

Hardy brusquely nodded his head. “No worries, babe. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Ronan knew Naomi, inside and out; the statement Hardy had just spoken couldn’t have been farther from the truth and the worst part? He didn’t even know it.

R
onan stood in the large office used for chapel with Hardy and Naomi.

They’d interrupted Chemist—aka Colin Shaughnessy—their resident drug expert. He’d received a shipment of heroin from one of their potential new connections and was using the room to test the levels of the drug’s potency.

“Don’t we have a fuckin’ lab where you can do that shit?” Ronan questioned in an annoyed tone.

“Yeah, we do . . . only Burns is cookin’ and I don’t fuck with the lab when he’s doin’ his thing.”

Hardy gazed at Ronan, his crystal blue eyes cold as he looked back at Chemist. “Wait a minute. We got the White Knights MC for our meth connection—what the
fook
are we doin’ cookin’ our own shite for? Is that bastard tryin’ to blow up this motherfuckin’ clubhouse?”

Chemist gathered his samples methodically, ignoring the harsh glare from his new president. “I thought you two were up to speed with what’s going down around here. Listen, the meth the WKs cook mostly is transferred either up north or to Southern Cali. They stopped
dealin
’ to us after Burns came over from their club. His old lady is Paiute—one of the local Native American tribes indigenous to the area of Clark County.

“His first old lady was white but his second wife isn’t. Anyway, they’re a white supremacist biker club and . . . well, he was kinda fucked when he fell for an Indian so you know how that goes.”

“No, actually I fuckin’ don’t,” Hardy replied as he crossed his arms against his firm
pecs
. “So, why don’t you enlighten me, son?”

“Listen, the WKs were more pissed off about
losin
’ one of their best cookers. Burns goes way back—knew both Nel and Brad when they all went to UNLV together. He’s cool people. Been with the LV Saints for about eight years now. Never had an issue with him. He just likes to smoke his peyote and cook meth. He’s not violent and when shit goes down, we make sure he and his family are out of the picture.”

 
Ronan sat down. “So, everyone respects him and he’s not considered to be a threat in any way?”

“Yep. Plus he was a shoo-in with both of his parents being one hundred percent Irish. Any
other
questions you have about Burns, talk to Dizzy. He’s close with him and he trusts the man with his life. There’s nothing out of the ordinary goin’ on what-so-ever.”

“Except we’ve got a meth lab on club property that could blow us all to kingdom come.” Hardy shook his head. “What a
clusterfuck
. Just get your gear and get the
fook
out. We got some shit to discuss—for our ears only and what not. Do your thing and report back how strong that shit is, got it?”

Chemist nodded before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

“A fucking meth lab? Shit twice and fucking die. Why the fuck didn’t Pops ever say anythin’ about it?” Ronan lit a cigarette and dragged heavily. “I mean . . . those places aren’t safe, are they? Everyone knows that shit is explosive especially if you’ve seen a couple of episodes of
Breaking Bad
.”

Naomi chuckled. “Meth labs actually aren’t that dangerous if you know what you’re doin’. Burns has to be in his late forties if he knows Nel and Brad. The guy has been cookin’ for a long time. Amateurs get blown up in meth labs—not people who know how to properly cook and have been doin’ it for decades.”

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’? You sounded like this shit was urgent. We’ll discuss meth labs later.”

Ronan stared at his old lady who kept looking from him to Hardy. “Fernando wants another meet. A week from now. He’s willing to give up Carlito—says he doesn’t need ‘em to keep
Aztecas Infierno
in the black. But . . . and it’s a big
but
. . . he wants to know Eve’s end game.”

Hardy’s fingers pressed against his temples. “How the bloody hell are we supposed to find that shit out?”

“He doesn’t expect you to—he wants Ronan to do all the leg work. His words, not mine.”

“I can do it.” Ronan breathed loudly. “I’ll contact Trey and see what he can set up. Then I’ll talk to Eve and let her know what’s goin’ on. I wanna know what happens to you if the Feds don’t get what they want. No way are you gonna be tossed out on your ass like a piece of shit. You’ve given the DEA some of the best years of your life and they are gonna own that shit whether they like it or not.”

Naomi chuckled though there was little mirth in her expression. “Eve Kerrigan can do exactly what she wants with me, Ronan. Just remember that when you think about mouthing off to her, all right?”

“It’s true, brother. Just keep your cool when you talk to her. Anything else could seriously fuck up our operation and your old lady’s aspirations of retirement,” Hardy replied cautiously.

Fuck!

He despised it when they both tried to gang up on him, even if they were giving him sound advice.

Eve Kerrigan may have been his half-brother’s mother but he didn’t have to like her. She was the reason why his parents had almost split in the first place even if she did have her own justifications for saving their marriage.

The bitch was the enemy and Ronan would never forget that, no matter how many warnings both Hardy and Naomi decided to dispense with unwanted and unneeded advice. He’d been taking care of himself for a long time now—he sure as fuck didn’t ask for their assistance.

“Looks like this meeting’s over. If it is, I’m tired. I wanna go to bed.”

Naomi nodded her head. “I’ll be right up. I just have to talk to the Prez for a sec . . . it’s personal. Nothing to do with this operation, okay?”

Ronan stood and glared from his old lady to his uncle before he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

He would have given anything to be the fly on the wall in chapel but what was the use? If Naomi wanted him to know, she’d tell him—it was as simple as that.

Although he preferred to sleep in his own bed in their comfortable McMansion, it didn’t look like they were going anywhere for the night. He strode up the stairs to the bedroom they shared at the clubhouse, undressed and slid under the covers.