Loving the Czar (The Blakemore Files Book 6)

by Olivia Gaines

  He stood at the window staring over his valleys, a glass of cognac in his hand to keep him company until she returned. Eduardo did not turn around as she entered the room. He also did not budge from his spot as she turned back the bed covers and slid in between the sheets. The rigidity of his body was noticeable as it appeared the snake too had ceased to breath.

  “Eduardo, come to bed,” she said softly.

  His dark eyes gazed at her from across the room, taking in the vision of loveliness which filled his bed. “You don’t want your Eddie tonight Dr. Dobbins?” he asked her. His voice husky, sounding almost primal.

  “No, tonight I need that mean son of gun that may have to kill a few people tomorrow,” she said as she flung back the covers.

  He spoke as he crossed the room, coming to where she lay. “Are you certain...because in my head right now, I am Eduardo...,” he told her as he stood bare next to the bed. The eyes of the serpent boring down on her.

  “No, I am not, but he needs my love too,” she told him. Her arms reached up to him as the weight of his body pressed down on the bed.

  Eduardo eyed the lacy lingerie. “Take that off Dr. Dobbins. I do not want to damage it.”

  “You can rip it to shreds if you want, just don’t damage me.” The weight of his body covered hers as his mouth connected to the warm flesh of her throat before moving to her lips.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he said.

  “You are right. You don’t, but I’m here and I’m yours,” she mumbled into his mouth.

  “Mine,” he said as he took her with more aggression than she was accustomed. Eduardo’s love making was rough, callous, and invigorating. The gentle, thoughtful touches and fevered endings she had with Eddie was nothing like the bucking bronco which bedded her now. The pleasure she experienced was intense to the point of almost being painful. Her fingers were fisted with his hair balled into her left hand as the nails on her right razed his butt cheek. It didn’t seem to matter if she were on her back, her side or face down on her stomach, his movements were made with purpose, deeply penetrating and masterful. The soft loving and encouraging words Eddie would whisper in her ear were replaced by grunts, moans, and monosyllabic utterances in Spanish. He was conquering her, and her body, claiming it as his own. Even if she wanted to fight him, she was losing, because her body was responding to his every demand. She found her second climax and cried out into his shoulder as his nails dug into her flesh when he found his own. Before she was covered in hematomas from passionate suckling. Now she was covered in scratches and bruises.

  Nothing was said as he held her hand but not her body. A body which was still humming from copulation although they were no longer connected. The weight of him, the feel of him inside of her was still there as she squeezed her thighs together while rubbing her shins against each other like a lonely cicada calling for love. He had not moved as he disengaged their fingers, his hand on her abdomen, moving to the cut out heart, with his middle finger tracing the skin in the missing patch of curls. His finger dipped lower into her womanhood as his digit made small circles on the nub of flesh hidden with within the swollen lips. The finger moved from side to side, back to a small circle and suddenly he pressed down hard and Ryanne moaned loudly, pressing her hips into the mattress, and convulsing as she came undone for a third time. She lay sprawled on her back staring at the ceiling, her beautiful lingerie ripped to shreds, his teeth marks in her skin and she understood without a shadow of a doubt what it meant to be ravished. It also became very obvious that he knew how to command her body with only a single flick of his finger.

  Damn, that shit was good. She gazed over at him, watching his sleeping form. He was an enigma of a man, who understood so much, but was truly clueless as to his own self-value as a man to a woman. Why she loved him was still unclear, but she did. Her body curled into a small ball as she tried to sleep, but how he had made love to her was keeping her awake. He wasn’t doing much better himself.

  Eduardo fell into a fitful sleep and tossed and turned throughout the night. Several times he woke her as he sat up in the bed reaching for weapons or swearing in a version of Colombian Indian Spanish that she did not understand.

  This was Eduardo Delgado.

  She had finally seen a part of the whole man as well as a glimpse of a future with the drug czar. She had made love to Eduardo Delgado. One thing was crystal clear to Ryanne - that man scared the shit out of her and she loved it.

  It was early when she joined him in the kitchen for a cup of freshly roasted coffee. He spoke in hushed tones when he raised the cup to his mouth, “I did not hurt you last night?”

  “No, I am no worse for the wear...” she told him, then thought about the colloquialism. “I am okay Seňor Delgado.”

  “That wasn’t a good idea, to invite him into your arms,” he told her.

  “Oh you are just worried that I will like it more with him!” she said as she stuck out her tongue at him and held up three fingers mouthing three times. Awesome!

  Eduardo could not help himself so he laughed. He laughed loudly. So loud in fact Tonda came running with two weapons drawn and Marianna came around the corner brandishing two very razor sharp knives.

  “Good Lord!” Ryanne cried out as she hid behind Eduardo.

  He only held up his hands to them. Over his shoulder to her he said, “You are a comedienne. You make me laugh.”

  “Well, I won’t do that again. I think I may need to go and change my underpants. They just scared the poop out of me,” she told him.

  He started to laugh again. This put him in a light hearted mood as he maneuvered her to his office. “I wanted to thank you for dinner yesterday, it was a well-balanced meal.”

  “Is that some sort of sideways compliment?”

  “No...what is this sideways? Never mind. Again, I did not know you cooked,” he repeated.

  Ryanne took a seat in the chair in front of him. “Again, my sister doesn’t cook.” She was careful not to say Odessa’s name.

  His eyebrows went up. “How is your sister? Has she had the baby?”

  “Babies! A boy and a girl,” she told him with pride.

  “I should send them a gift,” he said casually.

  Ryanne popped forward in the seat. “Oh hell no! A gift from you...a box from you. I am here in your country... Nope. Not a good idea.”

  Eduardo’s dark eyes were sparkling. “I think I am offended. I would give a great gift.”

  “No, the last gift you sent in a box was someone’s head!”

  He was scowling and smiling at the same time. The right side of his lip raised as if he were mocking Elvis. “I can just see that big lug headed Saxton now! Oh no! A box from Eduardo Delgado!”

  He waved his hands in the air as if he had been touched by Jesus. He began to laugh as he held his belly. “Mr. Tough American Agent would have the bomb squad and those doggies that sniff at drug boxes surrounding the house! He would come riding up on his big horse acting tough....”

  His eyes were wide as he slapped his hand against his forehead.

  “I get it now. Dog and pony show! That whole scene would be a real dog and pony show.” He laughed as he threw his hands in the air again. “Oh no! What is in the box from Eduardo Delgado? And it would nothing but two bambino blankets!”

  Ryanne’s mouth was open and her forehead crinkled. “That is not funny Seňor!”

  “It is funny as hell to me!”

  He was still laughing when he called in his assistant. “Maybe I should send two boxes. The other one to your loca sister with a ticking clock inside!” Eduardo threw up his hands in mock fear with his eyes wide mouthing, oh no a ticking box from Eduardo Delgado.

  His eyes were bugged and he continued to laugh as he waved his assistant into the room. “Marianna, I need to send baby gifts to the Busy B Ranch in Houston, Texas. I need two infant gifts, one for a girl and one from a boy. Please pack the gifts in a box about...” he used his hands to estimate a size.

  “Eh!
Use the same size box we sent the top portion of Mateo in!” He started laughing again. His laughter stopped when he took a look at Ryanne’s face.

  His lips got tight as he looked about the room, sighing deeply. “Well, that was fun while it lasted... On to more important things.”

  He looked at her as he opened his desk drawer. “I have made arrangements for you to head into Bogotá to shop for the day, have a nice lunch...”

  Ryanne held up her hand. “I don’t shop other than to pick up what I need. That is my sister’s thing, not mine.”

  “I can open a line a credit for you at several stores...clothing...lingerie...jewelry?”

  She shook her head no.

  “How about a day at the spa?”

  She shook her head no again.

  “I will send Marianna with you if that is an issue. She is also my personal guard as you witnessed earlier in the kitchen,” he told her.

  “No thanks. I have some work to get done that I have not touched. I would rather be close anyway, in case something were to happen...” she said softly.

  He stood and walked around his desk. “It is very important that you stay out of sight when these men are in the house. As you noticed, even my house staff is not visible. You too cannot be seen,” he said as he held her chin.

  “May I ask who the men are?”

  He inhaled deeply as he explained that there are 12 sovereign states in South America. “The three non-sovereign states which are French Guiana, the Falkland Islands and South Georgia. These 12 states make up the cartel with the baker’s dozen being Mexico which is headed by the Renteria’s.”

  “So six of the 12 are coming here to reap vengeance for you killing Mateo?”

  “No. Mateo was a bastard son of Elizondo so there is no retribution.”

  “Why are they coming then?”

  “Because someone has told them that you are here,” he told her.

  She stood up, “It doesn’t make sense that there is retribution for me being here and not for killing a cartel leader’s son!”

  Eduardo explained that each of the cartel leaders were either related by blood or by marriage. “I implemented that when I took over Colombia eighteen years ago. If you kill a member of the cartel’s immediate family, you are killing a blood relative. Miguelito Castanza of Argentina is my Great Uncle. Guillermo Guiterrez of Venezuela is my wife’s eldest brother...and so forth.”

  “...And Mateo’s father?” she wanted to know.

  “Elizondo Renteria is my mother’s eldest brother, which makes that cantankerous jackass my Uncle as well,” he said flatly.

  Chapter 13. Stay calm... stay calm

  In the solitude of her room she opened the files Agent Roget had given her to review the data. She spent nearly three hours analyzing, stockpiling and mining numbers that at the present moment were of no consequence to her. The end results were still the same. Her back ached and her thighs hurt from her romp with the raging bull last night. Between him, the horseback ride and children sleeping in her bed, her body felt as if she had run a marathon. The men were downstairs and a nice soak would be perfect.

  Using the pocket door, she let herself in Eduardo’s chambers and then into his bath room where she filled the tub with water. The small shelf held bath salts that she poured into the filling waters in which to remove the soreness from her muscles. The water was so warm she could feel the bottom of her feet pinking. She lowered her bottom into the water slowly bobbing her cheeks into the warm liquid until she was able to totally submerse her whole self. “Ahhh, that feels so good,” she said aloud as she leaned her head against the side and enjoyed the respite.

  When she woke the water was cold and her belly was empty. Her head however, was not. The idea that Eduardo had decapitated his own cousin was a terrifying thought. The excuse that he could get away with it because the man was a bastard child of Elizondo was not holding water with her. The men who had stolen from him he severed their hands and spoke of it as easily as if he’d picked up a couple of pineapples for sale at the market. The thought of what he would do if I disappointed him or let him down scares me. A shudder ran up her spine.

  She dressed in a comfortable skirt and modest blouse with her hair piled high atop her head. She opted for closed toe shoes since the light in the Eduardo’s private stairwell was so dim. As clean as the house was, it was doubtful that even his escape route would have cobwebs, but she would not take any chances. She slipped quietly down the stairwell cracking the door to ensure no one was in the kitchen. The fruit was on the counter as she tiptoed over like a cat burglar on the sneak. In her hand she held a banana and a mango. Shoot! I will need a knife for the mango! She put it back and went for something that looked like a version of an apple. She made her way back to the door to go back up the stairs, but she could not tell where on the wall the door was. Monkeyfarts! I should have propped it open. She pressed against several spots on the wall hoping, praying, and becoming more fearful by the second that she would not be able to get back inside. Just when she thought she found a release mechanism, she felt the cold metal of a blade against her throat.

  The large male body which held the knife, also held a handful of her hair. His hot breath slapped against her face as fine mists of spittle hit her cheeks. “And what have we here?” The man asked as he pushed her forward towards the dining room.

  All six of the cartel leaders sat around the table watching her being brought inside the room. Tonda made a move towards her but Eduardo held up his hand. She did not make eye contact with anyone in the room, not even Tonda.

  A burly man with a pot belly spoke, “So this must be your house guest Eduardo?”

  His voice was steely when he answered, “She is. Dr. Dobbins are you feeling better?”

  She swallowed hard as she held up the banana and other piece of fruit, “Yes, Seňor. I am hungry, my appetite has returned.”

  Another man asked her a question, his accent was very heavy, so heavy in fact she could barely understand what he said in English. Ironically, he repeated his question in Spanish of whether she was a doctor of letters or a doctor of medicine.

  “I am a doctor of letters, Seňor,” she told him.

  Another asked, “In what field?”

  “Finance,” she said.

  Elizondo did not like how this was going. The little slip of a woman was impressing the idiots he called constituents. She wasn’t showing any fear which also registered with him. He stood, walking over to stand in front of her, “Dr. Dobbins, we have been here for the majority of the day and are still uncertain why you are here. Eduardo has been giving us fancy double talk, but I would like to hear it from you.”

  He asked her quietly, “I understand you work for the American Justice Department.” The man was intentionally blocking her view of Eduardo. She went with what she had in her repertoire.

  “I did up until three months ago. I am a consultant now, serving as a research analyst,” she said flatly.

  And the question everyone had been trying to get out of Eduardo all day, Elizondo asked Ryanne, “What are you doing in Colombia Dr. Dobbins?”

  “I am here to consult with Seňor Delgado,” she said.

  Elizondo was out of patience. “Enough with these monosyllabic answers and bullshit! You expect us to believe that a little whisper of a woman like you would travel all this way alone to consult with one of the most nefarious drugs czars in the Americas? You both insult me! You insult this cartel with this shit! I say we kill them both for plotting against the organization!”

  The man who was holding her seemed to be enjoying the close proximity of her body as he moved suggestively against her. To her credit, although she was scared, she did not panic. The first man with the heavy accent rose from the table.

  “Dr. Dobbins, I am Miguelito Castanza. If you have any desire to live past this day, you may want to start talking,” he said flatly. It took her a minute to translate what he was saying.

  “I assure you Seňores, I can tak
e care of myself, so traveling alone is of no consequence,” she told them as she moved quickly. Her left hand grabbed the knife wielders hand, twisted it, bringing his arm down as her right foot stomped down on his instep. Ryanne dropped to the floor, slid between the man’s legs, bringing the knife holding hand with her, resting the blade against the hard on the man had been pressing into her back.

  She held him there as their mouths were wide watching in disbelief. Ryanne knew better than to make eye contact with any of them so she kept her eyes trained on the shiny buttons on Castanza’s waistcoat. “I arrived late in the afternoon on Friday. We had dinner in Bogotá and Saturday morning we toured the fields of Las Tierra Verdes. Sunday is the Sabbath so I rested from my jet lag as Seňor Delgado handled matters concerning his enterprises. Today would have been our first day to discuss the possibilities of working with big box corporate stores to move the coffee grown here into their sales channels.”

  Castanza asked, “Coffee sales?”

  Ryanne still did not look the man in the eyes. “Yes Seňor. Las Tierras is a green ranch, meaning there are no genetically modified crops or seeds used on the land, giving it an organic standing. Seňor Delgado also does not use any pesticides on his land but natural plant oils as an insecticide, which makes what he grows on this land very valuable in more ways than one.”

  A man with a very deep complexion stood up next and moved towards her. He tapped her hand to release the knife and let her prisoner go. To all of their surprise, she helped the man who had held the knife to her throat stand, even offering him an apology. “Sorry about that big guy,” she told him as she patted his arm when he passed by.

  “Tell me Dr. Dobbins, what did you mean by more ways than one?” The man asked her.

  Ryanne exhaled, “I am sorry, but my blood sugar is dropping and I have to eat something.” She bit into the fruit she was still holding in her hands as she gazed at Tonda who brought her over a chair. It was bitter but she was hungry. Opting not to sit at the table but where she stood, she chewed, swallowed, took another bite and swallowed that as well.