The Cartel King: A Captive Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  I return to the car, patting the scalding hot hood as I circle to the driver’s side. I had this baby delivered half a mile outside of the prison walls, waiting with a full tank of gas for my arrival. I’m going to push it to its limits, and then dump it somewhere close to the Canadian border.

  I duck back down into the car when I see movement from inside the building. That would be my food, and I don’t want to waste any more time sitting in the parking lot. It’s time to get this show on the road.

  Chapter Three

  Marybeth

  I walk back to the drive-in building with a skip to my step, happy that I finally get a break after this serving this customer. I only have three hours after my break until the end of my shift, and I’m dying to get home and take an ice-cold shower.

  The cool air inside the building greets me again, but I notice it less this time because I’m not as hot.

  Eddy looks at me expectantly.

  “He wants extra-large fries and a Sprite. Better make it a large too,” I say.

  He keys it into the register. “That’s five ninety-nine.”

  “He didn’t give me any cash.”

  “Not from around here, I guess,” Eddy says, shaking his head and pushing a button on the register to print out the bill. “Make him pay first, then come back and get the food.”

  “Okay,” I reply, holding out my hand for the bill.

  He places it in my palm, dragging his cold fingers against my hand as he leaves it. I wrinkle my nose, frowning at his gesture.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he says, his eyes just as cold as his hand was.

  “For the order?” I ask, taken aback.

  “No,” he replies. “For your break. You took too long yesterday, so you don’t get the full half-hour today.”

  “Says who?” I challenge, placing my hands on my hips. He isn’t my boss or even my supervisor, so I don’t see how he has the authority to shorten my break.

  “Says Joe,” he replies. “He told me to tell you.”

  Joe is our manager, and although he’s a nice fellow, you don’t want to cross him. If Eddy is lying, then he’ll be sweating bullets in a giant chicken suit outside for weeks, so I guess I can trust him on this one.

  “Fifteen is bullshit. Nobody is even here,” I whine, trying to get a little sympathy out of him. “Why don’t I take thirty, and we just call it fifteen?”

  “No,” Eddy replies flatly. “You’re coming back in fifteen, or I’ll tell Joe.”

  “Snitch,” I mutter as I turn around.

  “Prude,” Eddy responds.

  I ignore him, clenching the receipt in my hand so hard that the paper tears a little. Eddy is still sour about the fact that I never let him hit it when we were dating. For the record, I want to wait until marriage for all that. My father is a pastor, and even if we don’t speak anymore, I still remember some of his sermons.

  I push the door open with a flat hand, ringing the little bell at the top as I return to the intense summer heat. I’m so caught up in annoyance at Eddy shortening my break that I forget about the odd sensation I felt in my stomach when I first approached the red Mustang.

  The receipt is already damp with the sweat of my hands as I return to the mysterious customer.

  “Here is your bill, sir – five ninety-nine,” I say, going back to my upbeat tone as I lean forward and push the receipt through the thin opening in the window.

  “Keep the change,” a deep voice grumbles from inside the car, pushing a blue bill through the window and letting it fall to the ground before I can catch it.

  I bend over, snatching it off the dusty pavement. My eyes widen when I see it’s a hundred. It must’ve been a mistake.

  I laugh. “Uh, sir. I don’t think you meant to give me a hundred,” I say, attempting to push the bill back through the window.

  His fingers shove it back out, jamming into mine with aggressive force. “I don’t have anything smaller. Keep the change.”

  “Th-thank you, sir,” I stammer, unsure how to react. I’ve never been tipped so much in my life.

  I hold the bill up to the sun, peering through it as though I knew how to tell a counterfeit from real currency. I don’t, but it’s always a good idea to look for the obvious in case I’m having a fast one pulled on me. Eddy would be pissed.

  I don’t see anything wrong with the banknote, so I thank the customer in the red Mustang once more before hurrying back to the drive-in to give it to Eddy. I just hope we have change for a hundred.

  The cold air rolls off my face again as I charge into the drive-in building. Eddy scowls at me from the register. He’s still annoyed, but I’ve all but forgotten about the tension between us because of the enormous tip.

  One hundred minus five ninety-nine. How much is that?

  “Aw, come on,” Eddy says as I hand him the single blue bill.

  “He said he didn’t have anything else,” I say as Eddy shakes his head.

  “He’s going to clear out all the goddamn change,” Eddy grumbles, punching his finger into a few keys on the register and shoving the hundred dollar bill into the cash drawer. He pulls out a few twenties and counts up the change.

  “Order up!” the cook yells, thrusting another checkered bag from the small window to the kitchen. He follows it up with a large cup of sprite, the lid haphazardly thrown on top.

  I grab it from his hands, cold fizzy Sprite sloshing onto my dusty arm. “What the hell?” I hold the drink away from my body. “You didn’t put the lid on right.”

  The cook doesn’t answer, but I hear a snicker coming from Eddy.

  I secure the lid and grab my enormous tip from Eddy, shoving the change into the tight front pocket of my jean shorts. “Clock me out,” I yell over my shoulder as I barrel back out the door.

  If I only have fifteen minutes, I’m not going to waste time clocking myself out. Besides, Eddy knows my code.

  The sun glares at me even hotter than it did just a few minutes ago. I swear that Texas gets hotter each day, slowing moving toward an unbearable heat before finally cascading into something more manageable in the winter. We still have a long way to go.

  I want to go to the corner store, but I don’t think that I’ll make it there before exploding in a ball of flames. Plus, fifteen minutes isn’t nearly enough time to walk there and back. It’s a whole two miles in total.

  As I approach the glossy red Mustang with the customer’s bag of food, I get an idea. The driver was friendly enough to give me a tip, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind driving a woman like me around in his flashy car. That’s probably the reason he bought it.

  “Here is your order, sir,” I say, smiling through the black tinted glass as I hold out the oil-soaked bag of fries and the drink to him. The engine of his car is rumbling loudly, and I can feel the deep vibrations through my body as I lean on the side.

  The window comes down just enough for him to reach his hand out and grab his order. “Thanks,” he mumbles, beginning to roll up the window before I can even get a good look at him.

  “Hey, uh, sir,” I say, standing on my tiptoes as the window comes up.

  The window stops moving, leaving just the thin gap between the glass and frame like before. The man inside doesn’t say anything.

  “Is it possible that you could drive me to the corner store? I know you have your drink, but maybe you want something for the road,” I say hopefully.

  A moment of silence accents the scalding sun on my back, and I think that he’s going to say no, but to my surprise, I hear the metallic click of the doors unlocking.

  “Get in,” he grumbles.

  Chapter Four

  Rey

  I pull the red bandana over my nose, keeping my eyes pointed forward so that the waitress doesn’t see my face. I figure I can get her to run into the shop for me and get a drink. Nobody will suspect that she’s doing the bidding of the most wanted man in the country.

  “You’re super nice,” she says, sliding her dusty bottom into the white l
eather seat beside me.

  “Not really,” I reply, shifting the car into drive.

  “Yeah, you are. You tipped me so much!”

  “It’s nothing,” I reply, and I mean it. I have plenty more where that came from.

  “Humble too,” she says with a giggle. “Why are you wearing a mask?”

  I pull out onto the road, rolling down the pale asphalt as I hover my foot over the gas. I want to gun it and continue my run from the authorities, but it’s better to wait until I’ve dropped this girl back off at the drive-in.

  I run my hand over the bandana covering my mouth and nose. “Because I’m ugly,” I say, smiling under the cloth.

  She tilts her head to the side and frowns. “No way. Nobody’s ugly in the eyes of God.”

  Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

  This woman is a Texas peach alright, ripe and ready for picking. I wonder what her reaction would be if I pulled down this bandana and showed her a man that even the devil would fear.

  “I’m pretty ugly. Let’s leave it at that,” I say, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as I drive.

  “I don’t believe you, but okay,” she says. “You shouldn’t feel bad about it, though, even if you think you are. I don’t judge.”

  They always judge. Every single woman I’ve shared a bed with has judged me at one point or another. Nobody wants the man with the bounty on his head, but they all want to fuck him.

  This waitress is right. I’m not ugly; I’m something much worse.

  “I think I’ll keep the mask, if that’s alright with you, Miss…”

  “Marybeth,” she says, her blue eyes lighting up.

  “Marybeth,” I say, tasting the innocence in my mouth. She’d be a snack for a man like me, so pure and naïve. I’d love to have her, but I have more urgent matters at hand than pressing my cock into inexperienced pussy.

  Marybeth stares at me with wide eyes. “And what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Rey,” I reply, giving up a small piece of my true identity to her.

  “Rey, that’s interesting,” she says.

  “It means King in Spanish.”

  “Like the Desert King,” she says with a laugh.

  My body stiffens. “You know about him?”

  “Who doesn’t?” she asks, perking up with excitement. “He was wild, shooting and killing people left and right. I heard he got arrested, though.”

  I nod, relaxing again. “Yeah, that’s right. He did.”

  I guess she doesn’t know about the jailbreak yet. That’s good. She won’t suspect a thing. I didn’t want to have to kill a nice young woman like Marybeth anyway. She’s too innocent, and I prefer to take out people more like me.

  “You’re going to want to turn right up here,” Marybeth says, lifting her butt from the seat as she points out the window.

  I pay more attention to the way the seam in the back of her shorts separates her ass cheeks than where she’s pointing. I don’t need her to tell me where the corner store is. There’s not a damn thing else out here.

  I turn right at the stop sign, pulling up to a small, rundown shop at the corner. There’s a place to fill gas, but my tank is full enough for me to stay in my car while Marybeth goes inside.

  “Can you get me a bottle of Sprite?” I ask, glancing into the rearview mirror as I speak to her.

  “Sure thing,” she says, pushing her slender hand into the door handle. She pauses before opening the door, looking over her shoulder out the back window, her gaze then returning to me. “Are you on the lookout for someone?”

  “No,” I say. “Just making sure I’m pulled in far enough.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she says, springing out of the car and skipping into the corner store.

  I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. It was probably stupid to let Marybeth into my car, but I’m a sucker for big blue eyes. I can’t say no to them.

  I tap the beat of a Mexican song on the steering wheel, studying the road behind me in the mirror. Nobody drives on these streets, but that doesn’t mean the cops aren’t going to be patrolling the second they find out I’ve escaped from jail. They’ll want that bounty, especially in a poor town like this one.

  I grab my drink from the center console and jerk back as the cup crumples in my grip, spilling its contents on my lap and the floor. “Motherfucker,” I exclaim, looking around for something to clean up the mess.

  I push my hand into the bag of fries beside me, digging out an oily stack of napkins and tossing them over the spill. Someone didn’t secure the damn lid on right. I’ve already made a mess, and the car isn’t even moving yet.

  My seatbelt creaks as I bend over to throw napkins onto the floor. I’m about to sit up when I see blue lights flashing above my head, dancing off my mirrors and windows.

  “Already?” I grumble, throwing in another curse and keeping my head down until they pass. They might’ve been coming for someone else, but I’m not going to stick around and find out. I need to get the hell out of this parking lot before my sorry ass ends up back in a small cell on the Mexican border.

  With the engine still running, I duck out of the car to toss the half-empty paper cup of sprite into the rusted dumpster behind me. The smell reminds me of my early days in the cartel, digging through piles of trash to locate chopped up bodies that rival gangs would dump. We always gave them a proper burial if we could find them, but only if they were one of our own. We tossed enemies in black plastic bags just the same as every other gang.

  But these days, I just move bricks of cocaine and get my cock sucked by women I barely know when I have the time for it. Recently, that’s been not at all, but I’m looking to get back into the game. I may be getting up there in years, but age won’t ever stop me. I’ll retire when I die.

  I move back into the car, scanning the parking lot to make sure nobody saw me. It’s not like I could shoot a person right here in broad daylight without a police chase following, but I’m close enough to that already that I might not care.

  The only person I see is an elderly woman inching away from her car, heading toward the corner store. She probably couldn’t see me if I was an inch in front of her, bless her soul. I don’t need to worry about her.

  The cold air inside of my car greets me as I slide into the white leather bucket seat. I love this car, but I’m going to tear it to shreds while I’m screaming across the highway toward the northern border. I’ve learned not to get attached to nice things. They never last.

  I hear a bell ring, faint but enough to draw my attention back to the shop entrance. Marybeth appears at the doorway, her arms filled with apples and drinks. She looks like she just came back from an orchard instead of the corner store. I thought people around here ate fried pigskins and nachos for lunch, not fruit.

  I lean over and open the door for Marybeth, keeping an eye on the old lady as she approaches the store. For some reason, she keeps looking over at me, as though she can see through the deep black tint on my car and the bandana over my face at who I am. I shouldn’t be nervous about her, but I am.

  I lean forward, trying to hide my eyes behind the steering wheel as Marybeth climbs into the car and closes the door. I need to get the fuck out of here.

  Chapter Five

  Marybeth

  I hold out the green bottle of Sprite out to Rey. He takes it without looking at me.

  He has his head buried in the steering wheel, and I’m starting to get the feeling he’s not covering his face just because he’s ugly. If the top of his face is any indication, he’s actually quite attractive for a man his age.

  “You hiding from someone?” I ask, letting the apples in my arms roll into my lap.

  He jerks his head up from the wheel, glancing at me with his pale blue eyes before looking back out the front windshield. “I’m not hiding,” he grumbles, opening his sprite and putting it up under his bandana to drink it.

  I squint at Rey, not believing his story.
I’m more than a little suspicious of him now, and to add to that, he looks awfully familiar.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and studying what little face he has on display.

  “I’m not from here, so no,” he replies, screwing the lid back onto his drink and setting it in the cupholder between us. He looks at me and then down at my lap. “That’s a lot of apples,” he notes as he jerks the manual shifter into gear with more force than necessary.

  I look down at the assortment of apples in my lap and laugh. “Yeah, I suppose it is, but they didn’t have many healthy choices, so I just took as many apples as I could. I’m not in the mood for more junk food. I eat it way too much, you know?”

  He nods, pulling the car out to the exit on the road. He looks into the rearview mirror again as the engine gurgles in anticipation. His head jerks back suddenly, looking through the back window.

  I follow his gaze, landing on an old woman pointing a finger at us while the corner store cashier frowns and rubs his chin.

  I’m confident that I paid inside. Rey gave me plenty of money.

  I look back toward Rey, who’s dark eyebrows are so low over his eyes that I can barely see them. “What’s up?” I ask, my stomach starting to sink.

  That awful feeling has returned, and I’m starting to regret getting into a car with a man I don’t know. Didn’t my father say something about that at one point? I don’t recall.

  “Fuck,” Rey hisses through clenched teeth.

  “What?” I ask, my senses heightening as he turns back around.

  “Hold tight,” he growls, slamming the shifter into drive and spinning the steering wheel.

  I don’t have time to put my seatbelt on before I’m flung across the center console into Rey’s lap. My face lands on the crotch of his jeans, a strong masculine scent filling my nose. It’s like earth, leather, and smoke.

  I pull myself out of his lap, shocked and frightened about what’s going on. I’m flung to the other side of the cabin as Rey makes another sharp turn.