Blood Secrets: Fallen Motorcycle Club Page 17

The night before, we’d slept in the guest room where his mother had tied me to the bedpost. Now I saw his room for the first time. Dark curtains covered the windows and the walls were bare. A thick, black comforter covered the massive bed that dominated the room, and despite everything that had happened, just the sight of it made me crave his body again.

  Sigh. Lust.

  Clearing the erotic blinders from my eyes, I deliberately moved to sit on his desk chair. Documents covered every surface of the large oak desk, and I caught some numbers before he apologized and started slipping them into folders.

  “Club stuff,” he explained.

  “It’s fine.” I smiled at him. During the long months apart, I’d thought more than I should have about what life with Flash would have been like, wondered whether I could have accepted that he’d have loyalty and secrets to the club that I couldn’t be a part of. One night, sitting on the balcony and watching the dark surf, I’d decided that I could have done it. For him, I would have lived with it.

  Being with him made the decision even stronger. Flash was what I wanted, and The Fallen was a part of him. I’d never ask him to choose between me and the club.

  “So what’s the plan?” I wasn’t eager to hear it, but his obvious edginess had me nervous and I wanted to clear it away. Telling me whatever plan they’d concocted might help him calm down and act like himself again.

  “We need to take Manuel out.” I nodded, not surprised. As soon as I saw the dead man, I knew that Manuel was living on borrowed time.

  “When will you leave?” Dread filled me at the thought of him being gone, of being separated again, but I got a grip before fear leeched into my tone. I had to trust Flash to handle himself.

  “It’s not as simple as putting a bullet through his head. If it was, we’d just send Piston to snipe him. Fact is, the cartel will collapse under its own weight without a Deleon at the head.”

  “Cartels don’t operate on blood, though,” I said, wracking my brain to dig up limited knowledge of how the drug-running organizations functioned. “It’s usually strength or seniority.”

  “Not the Deleons,” he said, dropping to a knee and taking my hand in his. He stroked the fragile bones under my skin and looked into my eyes. The temperature of the room felt like it dropped 20 degrees.

  “And I’m the last Deleon.”

  Flash nodded, squeezing my fingers tighter. Out of nowhere, I remembered the first time Dad had urged me to jump into a pool as I’d stood knock-kneed on the diving board. When I finally bent my knees and pushed off into the empty air, my stomach had dropped down and the water rushed up at me, unavoidable. The same rushing up feeling closed over me now.

  “You want me to take over the cartel? Are you joking?” I ripped my hand away from his and stood up, walked to look out the window at the blue-night tinged trees in the park across the road. Maybe I’d spent a decade producing and selling meth, but it was never just me. I was just there. I knew nothing about cocaine, about running a cartel.

  “Emmy, it’s a lot to ask and you don’t have to say yes.”

  “Why would you ask me to do that?”

  “Because the fallout if the Deleon Cartel breaks down will be enormous. All the resources it owns don’t disappear when Manuel does, and people will fight to the death to claim them. The most ruthless fucker of the bunch will win—I’m sure Piston will throw one of us into it—but it’ll be bloody. A lot of good men will die.”

  “A lot of bad ones, too.”

  “True.” He rocked back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his temples. “But I’m not worried about them. Are you?”

  “No,” I said. It was the same conundrum that had sent me flying from him six months before. How responsible was I for the deaths of nameless, faceless people, though?

  “What if I don’t agree?”

  “Then you stay here and we kill Manuel. The cartel rots into the ground or gets picked up by someone else.” I thought of what Flash’s father had told me earlier in the day and realized that they were right. The only way to keep things stable long enough to break up the cartel was to take control myself.

  Rage and fear mixed together, churning deep inside. If I was being honest, though, there was a little eagerness, too. As much as I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who’d choose a life like that, it looked like blood would tell after all.

  “If I do it?”

  “We go to Mexico and you kill Manuel.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. To consolidate power, you’ll have to take him out. It wouldn’t be that way if you were his daughter, but his people will expect you to punish him for killing Rafael. We’ll get him. All you have to do is pull the trigger.”

  “Flash, I don’t regret killing Santiago, but it tore me up for months—and he was about to kill you when I did. How am I supposed to kill someone when he’s defenseless?”

  “I’m sorry, Emily. I wish I could shield you from this.”

  “I need to think.”

  “Then think. But we don’t have much time. Piston says we’re leaving for Mexico tomorrow, with or without you.”

  “But it’s better with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  His face closed down, and I knew the answer before he said it. “Take the cartel. It’s the best way take care of the people who can’t protect themselves.”

  “I assume The Fallen will still be selling for me?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “but there are other ways for us to make money. I wouldn’t ask you to do this just to keep a revenue stream.”

  I believed him and kissed his cheek. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, then I’ll do it.” I trusted him with everything. Rising from the bed, I pulled on a sweater. “I need some time.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Alone.”

  “You can’t go out alone.”

  “I won’t leave the property,” I promised and his jaw clenched, but he let me go. Leaving the only person I wanted to be around, even for moments, was difficult, but life had just shifted again and I needed the space. I needed to breathe.

  I walked out the front door and sat down on the porch. I wondered whether Flash and I would always live in the heart of the city. It had its charms, but at heart, I loved space and privacy. Then it hit me that if their plan worked, I’d be living in Mexico. And Flash? He’d still be here with The Fallen.

  I was going to have to be a commuter cartel leader, because the most important thing was to be where he was.

  “Nice night,” Piston said, pushing through the door and sitting down next to me. “But you shouldn’t be out in it alone.”

  “Why?” I wrapped my arms around myself and slid my eyes over to study him. The rakish leader of the club was calm tonight, but I’d seen him run after the men who’d dumped his friend’s body. There was heat and anger in there.

  “Manuel could have more men we don’t know about watching the clubhouse. Risking your life isn’t an option.”

  “No one is there,” I said, gesturing toward the park. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in hiding, no matter the reason.

  “Even so.” He nodded and two shadowy figures detached themselves from the sides of the clubhouse. One slipped across the street into the trees. The other took up sentry near the thin metal fence that enclosed the building. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Taking control of the cartel.”

  “You’re a Deleon, Emily. It’s in your blood and you have experience. There couldn’t be a better candidate.” I wondered whether he considered shipping meth experience, but held my tongue. No reason to antagonize him, not when The Fallen would end up being my greatest allies if their plan worked and I was sitting at the head of the Deleon Cartel.

  “I’m not ruthless, though,” I said, dropping my head into my hands. “How can I keep people who don’t know me— have never known me—in line?”

  “Your real father’s reputation wil
l go a long way toward making them accept you,” he said, conciliatory. “The club will help with any enforcement problems you face. I also think you should cut ties with the Columbians and scale back the operation to what it was before Manuel got greedy.”

  “Why?” I agreed, based on my limited knowledge, but was interested in hearing his reasoning. Bill had explained the way Manuel had extended the reach of the cartel at the expense of safety and discretion.

  “They’re dangerous. As long as they’re involved, you’re never going to be able to run it clean.” His hands flexed on the knees of his worn jeans while his eyes scanned the park, leaping from one tree to the next. No one was there.

  I agreed. “I don’t know how to break that contract.”

  “We’ll help.” The light coming from the club windows made him look harsh, but he was still so handsome—and worried. Knowing he was Flash’s best friend made me want to comfort him, but I was too lost in my own worries.

  “I wish there was more time.”

  “For what?”

  “To prepare,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “As soon as Manuel knows we’re gunning for him and that you’re our rallying point, he’s going to kill Rosaline. He hasn’t yet, but he will. It’s just good business.”

  “How is that good business?”

  “When you have an enemy, you take them down. Fast and final. Killing the last parent you have would be a damn good way to take you out of the game.”

  “I want to save her.”

  “Then think about what we’re offering. You won’t be alone down there, and we’ll teach you the things you need to know. Hell, girl, I’ll even personally help you take it apart piece by piece once all the dust settles if you don’t want to keep running it.”

  I wasn’t sure whether I’d want to keep running it or not. That was a worry for another time. “What about Flash?”

  “I don’t think I could pry that man away from you with a crowbar.” His face grew even more handsome when his lips twisted with a sardonic smile. “I think he’ll have to be the Fallen representative down in Mexico. Expect lots of trips up here.” My heart lightened a little. Flash moving to Mexico hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  “Trips up sound nice,” I said, and meant it. My impression of The Fallen Motorcycle Club before I’d met them had been that they were all killers. It was skewed, though, because I hadn’t seen them kill for reasons that weren’t right. Nothing about the bikers was intimidating to me anymore, because Flash had claimed me. Me. I was one of them now.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  I nodded and saw relief dawn in his eyes. Whether he cared about the money they’d keep from working with the cartel or whether he was genuinely worried about the people involved in the operation was still questionable.

  “Thanks, Emily,” he said. Nodding, he walked into the clubhouse and I sat back against the wall, looking up at the full moon and trying to decide how to make everything work without losing my life or, worse, losing Flash.

  When I finally went inside, only one man sat in the lounge. I vaguely recognized him as Jackson.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, moving toward the couch with measured steps. I’d seen his wild grief and agony when his friend’s body fell into his arms and didn’t want the whip edge of the rage to come down on me.

  “Alright,” he said, leaning back. “Saw you talking to Piston. He said you’re in.”

  “I am.”

  “You think you can kill Manuel?” I wondered whether he saw a piece of fluff without any substance when he looked at me, because the skepticism was hot in his eyes. Nodding, I moved closer and sat next to him.

  “I already killed his son.” Jackson looked me up and down, grudging respect in his eyes.

  “You’re a tiny thing.” He sighed.

  “Don’t have to be big to use a gun,” I pointed out and he offered me the bottle of vodka he was drinking from. “No, thank you.”

  “Your loss.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” I wasn’t sure whether it was something I should say, but it felt wrong to not acknowledge the man’s sacrifice. “It’s obvious you cared about him a lot.”

  “He was my brother. A good man. I killed one of the men who killed him, but it still wasn’t enough.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I knew how he felt, in a way. My parents were dead. My biological father was dead. I wished I could have just a taste of the vengeance that he’d received. Killing Manuel might give me that—or it might propel me headfirst into months of nightmares.

  Sobering, he turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “He died because Manuel is a psychotic piece of shit. Not because of you. Don’t put that burden on yourself.”

  I nodded. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “People die. You move on eventually.” He swirled the bottle of vodka and looked into the clear liquid. “He didn’t deserve the end he got.”

  “Few do,” I said, thinking of my parents.

  “True enough.”

  “Are you going to Mexico?”

  “I am,” he said. “I want to be there to see that fucker get the ending he deserves.”

  Flash was still awake when I came back into the room. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, but moved to me the second I came through the door.

  He opened his arms and I went into them gratefully. The ropey muscles held me tight to his chest and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. Something about his warm body made me feel more relaxed as we stayed in silence.

  “Are you okay?” he said after long minutes.

  “Not really,” I said, “but I will be in a few days. I spoke to Piston and told him that I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Emmy. You’ll never be alone again.”

  “I know,” I said, believing him totally. Wanting him to see the truth reflected in my eyes, I twisted so that I was almost on top of him and then met his gaze. “You’re mine.”

  “I’m never letting you get away again.”

  “I won’t ever try. Leaving you once almost destroyed me. I’m not sure I’d survive a second time.”

  “Emily, if you’re ever away from me again, I’ll never stop looking. I’ll tear the world apart until you’re back where you belong.”

  “With you,” I said.

  He nodded and pulled me closer.

  “You don’t have to kill Manuel,” Flash said, his voice almost a whisper. “I can make sure that only us and a few of the guys are in the room. No one is going to say that you didn’t. We’ll spread it about that you did and that’ll be the end of it.”

  I nodded, grateful, but doubts crawled through me. If I couldn’t kill the man who killed my biological father and sent Flash’s brother’s corpse back mutilated, then what kind of leader would I be? If I always deferred to The Fallen and made them do the dirty work, then in some ways I would be as bad a leader as Manuel.

  “It has to be the way Rafael ran it,” I told him. “I can’t let people die so that I can sell drugs. I’ll walk away before it comes to that.” I could run the cartel clean, I thought. I just had to learn how. From what Bill had told me about the current state of things, there was a lot of grunt work to do before we got it to where it needed to be.

  “We’ll walk away,” he said, his voice final. “It’s not just you anymore.”

  His lips met mine in a slow, warm kiss that spoke not of passion, but of connection. Cuddling closer, I planted a kiss on his chest, rested my head there and closed my eyes. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again it was morning and The Fallen were getting ready to head to Mexico.

  Flash

  Driving south with Emily pressed against me was like taking a heavenly chariot straight to hell. My brothers spread out around us, ahead and behind, to protect her from any attempts on her life on the off chance that Manuel knew how quickly we were moving.

  It wasn’t likely, but
you don’t gamble with what matters most.

  As important as it was that we made it down fast, the plan still included one overnight stop. Going up against trained guards and enforcers who might not prove as loyal to Rafael as Dad assured me they were meant that we needed to be ready. Sleep, steak and a little time off our asses would help clear out our minds and get us in fighting form.

  Winding down the coast road, I felt Emily lean her head against my back and knew she was looking out at the waves crashing below the cliffs. My girl loved the ocean, and I looked forward to a future where I’d be able to take her to it as often as she wanted. Once things cleared up, I’d spend a whole week with her on a hot, private beach somewhere, rubbing oil into that perfect golden skin.

  The happy days I’d promised her long ago were going to be more tricky than I’d thought then. All this fucking trouble because one man felt slighted when his brother took over the cartel, and it was going to keep echoing for us after his death. I’d felt her shudder in her sleep when she dreamed of shooting Santiago the night before we left. Would seeing Manuel killed make the nightmares worse?

  Making the choice to put him down myself cleared out some of the cobwebs from my brain. After a life of logical choices, I was a fucking caveman when it came to Emily. All I could think about was protecting her from immediate danger, and her having to plant a bullet in that fucker’s head was something my lizard brain just couldn’t handle.

  If I was honest with myself, I was worried she’d break.

  The engine purred as the sun started to dip. Soon we’d be at the hotel for the night and then tomorrow we’d make it the rest of the way to the villa and Manuel.

  My woman stared out at the sea, pensive, the dress she’d changed into for dinner blowing gently in the ocean air that rose off the waves and buffeted about her. Emily was too beautiful, I thought, and too fragile to be going through all this—but then I stopped myself. Her delicate beauty belied the strength inside. Every bomb that had been dropped on her, she’d ducked, rolled and come up with her fists raised.

  My girl was a fighter.