Our mom pats our dad’s chest. “Easy, Talon. It’s hard to be raised to be a strong, independent woman, only to then get told you gotta stay in your lane. She’s young. At fifteen, I begged my dad to take me on The Tail. Every year he gave me the same speech and it wasn’t until I took the ride with you that very first time, twenty-three years ago, that I truly understood what he had told me for my entire life.”
I look out at the road ahead. I know all about the ride. I’ve studied the map and readied my mind.
Year after year, people ignore the warnings. The asphalt here is unforgiving and is happy to swallow man and machine whole. I may have adrenaline in my veins, but I still have my brain. I’m not about to fuck up because my mind didn’t understand the ride ahead of me.
The curves of The Tail are like the curves of a woman. And Heaven knows, I love my women to be full of curves. Deep ones, short ones, sharp ones, and wide ones, I want to touch them all. Today, like a woman, I’ll grab the pavement and hug that shit tight, hold it close, and caress it gently, but always with a firm hand. This ride defines me from a boy into a man.
For the club, the ride is to solidify your trust in your new brother. We ride two by two, only feet separate our handlebars as we glide through each mile of mountain black-top. It’s a ride where the ol’ ladies hold on tight, giving their complete trust to her man. We ride all together as one.
As we line up, Red, my best-friend and I take our place in the back like we have more than a thousand rides before. Except as we settle into our places, two-by-two, the brother’s all move creating a parting of the sea of bikes from the club. Every charter we have from the Carolina’s is in attendance today. Slowly, we ride our way up the rows. When we reach Rex, my father’s cousin, right-hand man, and Catawba Charter President, I get a chin lift as he too moves from behind my father.
When the club rides together, my father always leads with Tank, Red’s dad, at his right side. Everyone falls in line with officers first and fading back to patched members, and prospects hold up the rear. When all the charters are together, my dad leads with Tank at his right, and Rex is always directly behind him with Shooter, his VP, to his right. Never has there been a separation farther than that between the cousins and patched brothers.
Red and I roll to a stop behind my dad and his. Talon “Tripp” Crews has been the president to the Haywood’s Hellions MC and overseer to the entire club with Frank “Tank” Oleander as his VP, since Roundman passed the gavel to him. Kenneth “Red” Oleander and I have been inseparable since birth and today is no different. He’s at my side as we both get our cuts.
My dad climbs off his ride as does my mother. Tank and Sass, Red’s mom, climb off as well. Reaching into their saddlebags, a feeling of pride overcomes me as I see my father lift my cut.
“Typically, this waits at the end of the ride, but you boys have busted ass and taken your shit. I’m honored to have you take this ride as my son and my brother. The vote was unanimous. You’ve done your time, paid your dues. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve grown into. Blaine Ward Crews, today you ride with this cut. You’re not just my son, BW, you’re now my equal. My brother, it’s time we take your ride.”
He tosses me the leather and I put it on feeling at home and at peace.
I was born to wear this cut.
I was born to take this ride.
I was born to be none other than a brother in the Hellions MC.
The ride goes on in Born to It (Hellions Ride On 1) now available through all major eBook retailers!
Excerpt from Cartel Bitch
Almanza Crime Family Duet
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Written By
USA Today Bestselling Author
Chelsea Camaron
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Chelsea Camaron, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. All character, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st edition published: March 15, 2018
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Editing by: Asli Fratarcangeli and Mandy from Raw Editing
Author Lifesaving Critique Partner: Ryan Michele
Cover Design by: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs
Cover Model: Mike LaCombe
Cover Picture Photographer: Golden Czermak, Furious Fotog
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Thank you for purchasing this book. This book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
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About this duet
Cartel Bitch (Almanza Crime Family Duet Part 1)
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There was a fine line between love and hate, we walked it together.
Unforgiving.
Relentless.
I'm to be feared.
When your family is as much a friend as an enemy, there is no one to trust.
I am Javier Almanza.
Cartel kingpin.
No one can touch me.
No one can hurt me...
* * *
Except her.
Mari Belle Dominguez.
He was raised as family. My brother’s best friend, my first kiss, and my first betrayal. He planned to make me his Cartel Bitch. The joke was on him; I’d never break nor would I bend. I would fight until the end for myself.
My will was stronger than his want.
He would soon see.
* * *
This is book one in the Almanza Crime Family Duet and a full-length standalone romance. This is a dark, edge of your seat romantic suspense novel featuring an antihero, so there is a level of violence inside that may not be suitable for some readers. This is not meant to be an actual depiction of life inside a Cartel but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.
Cartel Queen
Cartel Queen (Almanza Crime Family Duet Part 2)
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Hardened.
Persistent.
I refuse to break at the hands of a man.
I am Mari Belle Dominguez.
Strong woman.
My situation made me his.
He’ll never really have me.
I’ll never let him hurt me again.
That is … until he claims more than my house, my body, and my life.
When Javier Almanza claims my heart, I’m no longer his cartel bitch.
No, I am the queen.
* * *
I thought she wasn’t ready for my world. I thought she needed my protection. I am Javier Almanza, kingpin with a woman who didn’t need a single thing from me, but my love.
The hardest fought wars are the biggest lessons learned. She was my lesson in forgiveness.
Prologue
Maricio
Mantiene a tus amigos cerca y a tus enemigos más cerca—Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, they said.
He was my brother—mi familia. He had my trust.
Now he knew my hatred, my envy, and he would see my vengeance. I would take everything from him piece by piece, the way he did to me.
Javier Almanza was my brother no more.
Present Day
Javier Almanza
“Deliver her,” I ordered Aurelio as I sat back in my chair thinking about the fact that Mari Belle Dominguez would find out who took her in a few hours. The fear, the power, the control, I would enjoy it all as I took my time fucking with her head the way she fucked with my heart. The anger and betrayal all sat just under the surface. “And get me Paco in this room in twenty minutes.” On a nod, Aurelio left the room immedia
tely to find the information I sought. He was my right hand, my enforcer, and the only person I had even a small amount of trust in.
Chicago became my primary home about five years ago. The hustle and bustle actually calmed my soul from the chaos of my upbringing. It was easier to blend in here rather than staying in the Midwest where my mother wanted to be. She lived in a suburb not far from me, but given the latest information I had dropped in my lap about our life, Estella Almanza would be relocating to my house whether she liked it or not.
“How does Trapper Gates have a reach further than mine? How does Mitchell “Trapper” Gates beat you?” I muttered to Milano, my behind the scenes guy. He sat tied to a chair in my office, a whimpering mess.
“Jefe, no tenía ningún rastro de papel.” He whined about there being no paper trail pushing me to the edge of my control. I didn’t accept excuses. Accountability was a huge thing in my business. He had none. It would end today.
Moving to stand behind him, I pulled out my knife. With the cold, metal blade against the tender flesh of his throat, I pressed in. The resistance of his skin to my knife made the weight move in my hand just slightly. I relished it. Power. The very power of life and death sat in my hands.
“Por favor,” he said between gritted teeth. His skin was covered in a slight sheen of sweat. “Please,” he begged.
“How does a biker know more than you? How does he know where Mari Belle is when I’ve had you on my salary for how long? How does he know Paco has been in contact with her when you did not? How? How? How?”
“Jefe,” he started to speak as I quickly moved the blade from his throat and slammed it into his leg, narrowly missing an artery. He cried out while I laughed. This was only the beginning of his pain.
“Fuckin’ doesn’t matter how. I was played for a fool.” I grabbed the other knife from my desk and stabbed it into his other thigh while the tears ran in steady streams down his face. “You, you fuckin’ piece of shit, you didn’t do your job and I got schooled by a fuckin’ biker.”
“Jefe, you can kill the biker, teach him the lesson about who he stands against. I can do better.” His words were clipped as I watched the fear crawl through him. He knew this was his end. I relished each tear that fell down his face. This was his role in my organization—keep me in the know, at all times, about all individuals in my organization. He was also tasked with finding out where Maricio Dominguez was hiding his sister, which obviously slipped through the cracks. He failed. Failure didn’t exist in my world.
“That biker didn’t stand against me, you fool. You didn’t do your job. You pay. The biker gave me what I sought.”
I was visiting a location, mi primo, my American cousin Antonio Almanza had secured for us a few months ago when everything came crashing down around me.
The place was a cover. It was an art store or some shit. I didn’t bother with the menial details. We had been filtering drugs through an artist under our protection for years. Turned out she was married to a biker—Rowdy, from the Devil’s Due MC. A man who, before he rode with the Devil’s, was a master fabricator. We even offered him a full-time job customizing cars to better transport our product. He declined. In a mess, he went to prison for killing his brother-in-law. He didn’t do the crime, but he did do the time.
While we had been informed Michele and Rowdy were no longer together, the biker didn’t receive the message well. In the end, it left my cousin, Antonio, dead on the floor. Michele, our artist, was long gone on the back of her husband’s bike and me pissed the fuck off. While anyone else would have died the instant they crossed me, Mitchell “Trapper” Gates shared some information with me that left the Devil’s Due untouchable to me. They lived, I lived, and after they returned to wherever the fuck they came from, I received all the information on Maricio and Mari Belle Dominguez that I had been unable to procure through my own affiliations.
“Dumb fuck, I made a deal with the Devil’s. They lived, Antonio died, and you will too. I am no longer in need of your services, Milano.”
The man’s eyes grew wide before I took my hands and wrapped them around his throat. Slowly, with his eyes locked to mine, I cut off his air supply. I wanted him to watch me, to see me, and know it was by my hand he would perish. Minute by minute, I held him tighter and tighter. My thumbs turned white as I continued the pressure until the life was gone from his stare.
Ripping the knives from his legs, I tossed them onto my desk, splattering his blood everywhere.
The dark bamboo floors would be cleaned, the furniture replaced, and everything from top to bottom disposed of later. I needed the body, the evidence, to remain here for just a bit longer. I wanted Paco to have a visual of what he would endure soon enough. It was easy to kill a man with a bullet or a knife, but by my hands, my very fingertips, I held the power of life and death. Everyone beneath me would be wise to remember it.
Right on time, Aurelio opened my office door with Paco right behind him.
Only when Paco was inside the room did Aurelio step aside. Swiftly he moved out of the room while Paco looked from Milano’s body to me.
“Jefe,” he greeted.
“We go way back, Paco,” I reminded him while he seemed completely unaware as to why he had been called in.
“Si,” he replied moving to the body to untie the hands like I was expecting him to clean it up.
“You were once a father figure to me, Paco. You were once my Jefe,” I reminded him of the history we shared.
“Si.” He continued about his task.
“Stop!” I ordered and he stood straight up like a soldier. “Paco, how long?”
He raised both hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”
I stepped in front of him. He didn’t step back. Paco was a prideful man. “You were like mi padre.”
“Si,” he nodded at me.
“Confiar en ti, that was my mistake,” I told him. “I should trust no one, least of all you.”
He blinked realizing he was not called here for clean-up.
“You touched what was mine, and you, of all people, knew she was mine,” I explained as I removed my side piece. The gun felt heavy in my hands knowing the history I had with Paco. Normally, I wouldn’t shoot a man. I would draw out his pain, his agony, and let him feel his loss moment by moment. Paco and I had a past. One I respected until I found out the truth. Too many years he was by my side and me by his. Therefore, I would make this quick.
“Javi,” he said my name in a pained groan. “Talk to me.”
“The time for talking was years ago. You knew all this time. You knew exactly what I wanted. You played both sides of this war, Paco, and you lose.”
I took a step back as I lifted the weapon.
I fired.
One shot.
His eyes were still locked on mine as his brain matter and blood splattered my face and shirt.
As Paco’s body fell to the floor, so did everything I ever held onto that was good from my past.
It was all a twisted mess. Every lesson from my lifetime ran through my mind as I slid the gun back into my holster.
Lesson one: never trust anyone—even familia. For we were all men of the world, tempted by the flesh, and power hungry mother fuckers.
Aurelio, having stood watch outside of my door, entered again knowing the job was done. “She’s been delivered, Jefe. Mari Belle waits at your home.”
A sinister smirk built across my face. Mari Belle Dominguez would be learning a lesson today. A lesson I should have given her twenty years ago.
Never cross me. Forgiveness wasn’t in my DNA. My heart didn’t exist, and my soul was blacker than the Devil’s own. While she was comfortable thinking she had everything; me, I had not one fucking thing to lose and it was time she learned just how much she fucked up by leaving with him.
I wouldn’t be the fool ever again. I had waited years for this. Now was my chance to end the Dominguez family forever. I would make it slow, painful, and by my hands.
Read on in Cartel Bitch (Almanza Crime Family Duet 1) – available through all major eBook retailers. Click here for your copy!
Hellions Ride On, no. 0 Page 6
