“Follow me,” the doctor told her, and with nerves fluttering in her stomach, Ginger did.
TWENTY-ONE
“Why did you bring him here?”
“He’s been demanding an audience with you for weeks,” Manuel deadpanned. They were both displeased, which made him nervous. Well, more nervous than he had already been.
“Demanding?” A humorless chuckle followed. “Who are you to demand anything?”
Was she talking to him? He wasn’t sure. The bag was ripped from his head, and he winced not only because a chunk of his hair had been torn away with it, but because the light was blinding after having been in the dark for so long.
“Well, speak!”
“I-I—My name is Frank. Frank Kellerman,” he stammered. “I worked for the FBI, undercover…f-f-for the Spartans and—”
“It was a rhetorical question, idiota!” The woman was stunningly beautiful. Flawless bronze skin and long, silky black hair that pooled at her hips spoke of her Spanish heritage, full, generous lips that formed a cruel smile, and wide, dark eyes—shark’s eyes, Frank thought warily.
She was a woman who’d killed, he had no doubt. Someone powerful.
But who was she?
Sitting in a throne-like chair with a high back and detailed, gilded scrollwork, she tapped her fingers rhythmically as she stared at him in a way that sent shivers dancing down his spine. “Do you know who I am, Frank,” she hissed as if his name alone was repugnant.
He shook his head, afraid to speak.
“No, you wouldn’t, would you? As I’m just a woman.” Her cold gaze swung around the room to each of the men quietly standing watch. “Funny how you men seem so surprised when a woman steps into their role and not only fills it easily but does it better. Don’t you agree, Frank?”
Her voice, smooth with a heavy accent that could as easily seduce as it could destroy, terrified him. He nodded, agreeing right away.
“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. Even though I’ve spent my entire life serving this family, it was always my brother they preferred. They didn’t know it was me who gave him his best ideas.” She crossed her legs, her dress splitting open nearly to the top of her thigh. “I mourn my brother’s death, but I’m also happy because it’s finally time for me to take what’s always been mine.”
She stood and walked up to Frank. Shorter by a few inches, she still managed to make his skin seem to shrink as she stared up at him. “Do you know who I am now, Frank?”
He should have known from the second he laid eyes on her. The most stunning woman in Mexico and part of the largest crime family, she was known for her cunning as much as her beauty. They called her The Mantis because when she was done with a man, he generally turned up dead. He’d always thought those were just bullshit stories passed around like fairy tales to keep men away from the boss’s daughter; but no, Frank could see it in her eyes.
Those stories were true.
He swallowed tightly. That she’d traveled this far east of home couldn’t be good. “Luciana Cruiz. You’re Ricky’s little sister.”
Her lips curved in satisfaction. Patting his cheek, she said, “You’re not as dumb as you look after all. Kneel!”
Frank was on his knees before the echo of her voice faded from the room.
Which amused her greatly. “Take note, boys. This is how it’s done.” Her eyes focused on Frank, and he could see the wheels turning, calculating. With a snap of her fingers, Manuel was at her side. “What do you think, Manuel, can we trust him, our little double-crossing informant?”
“I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him,” Manuel commented. Frank began sweating.
“Mmm, that could be a problem.” She tapped a red-painted fingernail against her lips and tilted her head, studying him. “Are you loyal to me, Frank?”
“Y-yes. Yes, of course.”
“Eh, too easy. I don’t know if I believe you.” After a moment, her eyes flared, and she snapped her fingers again. “I have a solution, an easy way to know for sure if you’re with me…or against me,” she said as one of her men passed an empty wine glass to Manuel. “Pour our friend a drink.”
Frank’s eyes darted back and forth between Manuel and Luciana, fear striking him mute. Inside, he trembled, sickness roiling in his gut.
Then he watched in confusion, which was quickly followed by revulsion, as Manuel unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick.
“If you don’t want to lose your head today,” Luciana said in a conversational manner, “you drink every drop. Prove to me where your loyalties are, gringo, so my maid doesn’t have to clean up another mess.”
With a twisted smile, Manuel held out the glass to Frank. With a shaking hand, Frank’s fingers wrapped around the warm glass. He stared at the bright yellow piss, warring with himself. He didn’t want to do it, but what was the alternative?
Bringing the glass to his lips, the smell of warm urine stung his nose and triggered his gag reflex, but Frank reminded himself that he’d done a lot of terrible things to get where he was today. It would all be for nothing if he turned back now. His payoff was just around the corner.
Humiliation coursed through him. Everyone watched as he brought the glass to his lips, stopped, tried again. He couldn’t make himself do it, but he had to. There was no other choice.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Luciana taunted. “Drink!”
Frank’s gaze flipped up and met hers, recognizing the pure evil in their dark depths. Holding his breath, he tipped his head back and chugged.
***
Blake laid down on his bed, thankful to be home. It’d been a long-ass fucking day. Just when things seemed to finally be getting back on track, someone had to go and screw it up.
He’d almost lost a brother tonight. The thought had been weighing heavily on him since the instant he saw Repo’s motionless body lying in the middle of the road, but in the quiet stillness of the early morning hours, it was only now setting in.
Someone was gunning for the Spartans. Wanted to take them down, one by one. And they’d started at the top, as close to him, the president, as they could get.
He’d be a dumb motherfucker if he didn’t sit up and take notice. As much as he’d like to turn his cheek and go on with his life as normal, he wouldn’t be long for this world if he chose to ignore the blatant threat hanging over his head. Over all their heads.
It was imperative that they find out who was behind the hit and stop them dead in their tracks before they could do any more damage.
After how far they’d come, after how much work he’d put into pulling the Spartans out of the trenches and reforming them into respectable members of the community, Blake was not about to allow some piece of shit to go all Lord of the Flies on his turf.
Not on his watch.
Whoever was driving that car tonight was lucky they hadn’t killed Repo. The fucker was tough as nails and too stubborn to die. But fucking hell, the shit that doctor had said about him being lucky to have been wearing a bulletproof vest really stuck with him.
It wasn’t something any of them bothered with. That was a personal choice on Repo’s part and one that Blake hadn’t been aware of. But now…
First thing he’d done after ensuring that Repo was going to pull through was tell Country to get on the line and order one of those vests for every brother and prospect. From here on out, his men were going to be prepared for the unexpected.
It was imperative, especially if they were going to war.
Which looked inevitable, from where he was sitting.
Jesus Christ, he never thought he’d have to do this again. After his father was out of the picture and he’d taken over, Blake truly thought he’d be able to put that stage of his life behind him.
Best laid plans…
Staring up at the ceiling, one hand tucked behind his head and his other arm wrapped around his pregnant wife, Blake thought of everything he stood to lose.
He had a wife and kids to worry ab
out. It’d only been a few months since Cruiz and his boys destroyed their home, leaving them to rebuild and attempt to put the pieces back together. No amount of paint and drywall could cover the psychological wounds though. Getting over that kind of trauma wasn’t easy. His son was still having nightmares, and Gabby? She didn’t like to admit it, trying to stay strong for him, but she was too.
Blake had lost track of how many times he’d turned over in the night to whisper in her ear and chase away the dreams that had her crying out for help.
In many ways, he blamed himself. If only he’d been there. If only he’d anticipated what would happen. If he’d left her alone, she never would have been a part of this. If he’d this, that, or the other, then maybe she wouldn’t be suffering in silence now.
Sometimes he thought maybe he should let her go, for her own good, but Blake would never do that. In all honesty, he was too selfish to ever give her up. He needed her in his life. She grounded him, gave him something to look forward to each day.
He’d die for her. And hell, he just might have to.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gabby said, shattering the silence.
Blake tipped his head down, and she tipped hers back so they could look at one another. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Who can sleep after tonight.” She snuggled deeper into his side. “All I can think about is what if that had been you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“But it could have been.”
“I don’t want you thinking about that. Nothing is going to happen to me.” It was a promise he intended to keep.
“It’d better not, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Blake chuckled, pulled her in, and kissed the top of her head. “That makes no kind of sense, teach.”
“Just be careful. I don’t intend to raise these kids alone.”
“You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her hand flattened against his chest, and Gabby sat up, her gaze intense. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise you’ll track down who did this and make them pay.”
Blake’s eyes widened briefly, shocked at the viciousness in her voice. He’d never known Gabby to be anything but gentle and kind. But she was no stranger to the ugly parts of life, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock that she’d react fiercely to anything that threatened her peace and happiness.
Blake felt the same way.
“Find them and make sure they can never do this to anyone else.”
Reaching up, Blake brushed her hair back with a gentle hand. “Teach, I swear I’m going to hunt those bastards down. I won’t rest until they’re in the ground where they’ll never hurt another living soul again.”
A faint but sad smile formed on her delicate face, and Gabby leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips. Then, without a word, she nestled into his side once again, and together they laid in silence, staring at nothing while thinking about everything and taking comfort from simply being in each other’s arms, absorbing the fragile and temporary sense of security they found together. Hopefully, Repo and Red would find the same.
TWENTY-TWO
One month later…
A week to the day, the doctors released Garrick from the hospital. He was making a remarkable and speedy recovery, probably solely due to his stubborn nature. As Ginger heated up a can of chicken noodle soup, she smiled, remembering how he’d fought with the hospital staff every step of the way.
If they hadn’t had to adhere to policy, she’d suspect they’d released him only because they couldn’t stand to deal with him anymore.
Men were notoriously bad patients, but Garrick topped them all. At every turn, he resisted help of any kind. Sponge bath? No, he wanted a shower, and no one had better even think of helping him stay on his feet.
Hospital food selected for his specific condition that would be easy on his stomach and work well with the pain meds they had him on? No, he wanted food of his own choosing brought to him. So what if he vomited half of it back up; he knew what was best for him. It was his body, after all.
Take his pain meds at specific intervals to ensure he stayed ahead of the curve, and the pain didn’t become unmanageable? No, he didn’t need anything for pain. He was wrong, of course. It took her patient, persistent coaxing to get him to relent, even though she saw in his eyes that he was in pain and was just trying to be a man’s man about it.
He even insisted on walking out on his own two feet instead of using the wheelchair the hospital insisted on him using. He’d lost that fight too. It didn’t take long for Ginger to figure out that all she had to do was give him just the right look and touch and she could get him to do just about anything.
The only thing she hadn’t been able to get him to budge on was going home. She wanted him to go to the clubhouse where there would be plenty of protection at all hours of the day and night. He wanted to go back to his house where he’d be most comfortable and wouldn’t have “a bunch of nosey bastards looking over his shoulder and treating him like an infant.”
The man was impossible.
Especially when he tacked on that he expected her to be right by his side, which meant a couple of prospects were sent to her apartment to pack her a bag.
She could have argued with him, resisted to the point of giving them both a headache, but the truth was, she was tired of fighting what she realized was a losing battle.
His getting shot had opened her eyes, making her realize that, even though they still had a few things to work out, the only place Ginger wanted to be was with him. For her own peace of mind, she had to know that he was okay, and if she was being honest, she got satisfaction from taking care of him.
The fact that he let her without being a total whiner about it was nice too.
It seemed she was the only one he allowed to see his vulnerable side. Which was a sort of privilege in its own right. Garrick didn’t often show weakness, determined to stay strong no matter the circumstance. But with her, he allowed a bit of softness to shine through.
It was quite endearing.
At the hospital, she’d gotten to know him even more intimately than sex alone could ever allow. She knew now how to spot when he found something amusing, when something was on his mind, when he was in pain, and when he was upset.
All things that he hid well before, but for her, were plain to see now. He was a good poker player, but she’d learned his tells.
And she planned to use her newfound skill of observation to the fullest.
Pouring the soup into a bowl, she grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers and a bottle of water to wash it all down and carried the lot into the bedroom where the brothers had deposited him when they’d brought him home a month ago and she’d been struggling to keep him ever since.
“Uh-uh,” she scolded when she caught sight of Garrick, fists planted into the mattress, biceps flexed and straining as he tried to climb out of bed. “You lay your ass back down.”
“Christ, Red, I’m not an infant. I gotta take a piss,” he grumbled.
“Then let me set this down so I can help you up.”
“I don’t need any fucking help.” He winced, and Ginger clucked her tongue at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m fine.”
“You were shot,” she reminded him.
“Weeks ago. Everything is healed now. I’m practically good as new.”
Placing the food on the side table, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and leveled him with a look that landed him back on his ass with a huff. “Before you go dancing, I want to remind you that you almost died. I’m not taking any unnecessary risks.”
“What are you, my mother?”
“No, but I’ll act like it if you make me. Now, did you take your pills?”
“I don’t need them. Now, do I have permission to use my own bathroom, or are you going to bust out a bedpan?”
Propping her hands on her hips, Ginger cocked a brow
and stared him down until Garrick finally lifted those crystal blue peepers her way and leveled her with a matching look of impatience.
“You’re a stubborn fool,” she accused. It was clear in the set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t going to relent, so there was only one thing left to do.
Grabbing his arm, Ginger turned and bent down, tucking herself beneath it. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Garrick asked even as he allowed her to help him to his feet and started walking.
“What does it look like I’m doing,” she grumbled.
Reaching the bathroom, she guided him through the doorway and waited until she was certain he was going to remain standing before stepping away.
“Are you fine on your own for a minute, or do you need me to hold it for you too?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Those eyes of his…they found hers and the light behind them brought a smile to her face. “Only if you’re offering, babe.”
Rolling her eyes, Ginger turned away. “I’m not.”
He got serious fast. “Honestly, I’m fine. You need to stop worrying so much before you give yourself an ulcer.”
She huffed, knowing he was right. He’d been more than fine for a couple weeks, but she just couldn’t help worrying. It was part of her charm.
While he did his business, she busied herself in the bedroom straightening the blankets and fluffing the pillows, making sure things were fresh for his return, as per routine. She set out two of his pain pills next to the bowl of soup too, a not-so-subtle hint that he needed to take them.
But he probably wouldn’t, stubborn man.
“Hey, Red,” Tanner, Moose’s nephew who was prospecting for the club, said, popping his head into the room. “We have to take off. Is there anything else you need before we go?”
They’d had the help of the club the last few weeks, bringing by supplies, so she didn’t have to worry about shopping. The only time Ginger left Garrick alone was when she had to pull a shift at the clubhouse, and then there was always a prospect who stayed behind to keep him company as much as to watch over the property, making sure no uninvited guests decided to stop in and finish what they’d started. Security was constantly on her mind.
Vigor: A Spartan Riders Novel Page 14
