by Bella Juarez
Sheriff Wright flew out of his chair and around his desk. He planted himself squarely in front of Jax.
“Let me tell you what the hell this is, dumbass! This is your get-out-of-jail-free card. You’re fucking lucky they haven’t thrown you in prison for conspiring to kidnap a federal agent, yet. Don’t fuck with me, or I’ll fire you all!” the sheriff yelled. The three men fell silent. “Jax, I’ve turned a blind eye to all your bullshit since you came on board, but you three have gone too damn far this time. Stay the hell away from Rio Jensen. If I hear that you’ve violated that restraining order, I’ll not only fire you, I’ll arrest you myself!”
“But—” Jax started.
“But nothing! There is no but. She’s obviously not feeling the love, Jax. Quit fucking with her! It’s over! Do you understand me?” Jax said nothing. “Do you understand?” the sheriff growled.
“Yes, sir,” Jax said with a sulk.
“Sheriff, if I may, sir…” Seth said.
“What?” the sheriff asked with a snarl.
“Jax and I have been friends as long as I can remember, but I’m cutting the ties right now. I don’t want any part of this. I like and need my job, and I sure as hell don’t want to go to prison over something I tried to stop,” Seth said looking at the other two men.
“What do you mean? Something you tried to stop?” He narrowed his gaze at Seth.
“I told them they were crossing the line when this first came up at St. Elmo’s, and I didn’t want any part of this. They went ahead anyway. I’ve tried to be loyal, but I have a family to think about now.”
“Did he tell you two that?” the sheriff demanded.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think she’d get mad. It was a joke,” Jax said defensively.
The sheriff took a step backward.
“A joke? You almost got her killed!”
The level of stupidity in this room was unbelievable. This incident went beyond Jax being spoiled, and the sudden thought that popped into his head made him pause. Jax had to have something seriously wrong with him, or someone else had pulled the strings.
“Jax, I’m only telling you this once, so pay careful attention. Stay. Away. From. Rio Jensen. She’s not interested in you. In fact, it’s pretty damned obvious that she doesn’t even like you. If I find out you’ve gone anywhere near her, I don’t give a shit if it’s by accident, I will arrest you, and I will have you thrown in jail. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Jax said.
The sheriff turned to Paul James. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” PJ snapped.
“You two leave, and I don’t want to see your sorry asses here for a week. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Jax and PJ said.
“You”—he pointed to Seth—“sit.” Addressing himself to Jax and PJ he said, “You two are dismissed.”
The two men walked out of his office, and he closed the door behind them. He walked around to his desk, took a seat, and looked squarely at Seth.
“I want to know every fucking detail of what you know. If I find out you’re lying to me, I will fire you and make your life as miserable as I can. Now, how the hell did this start?”
* * * *
Nacho sat back in his chair as he received his weekly update on operations across Sonora. The large spacious conference room on the second floor of his three-story house rivaled any Fortune 500 office in Mexico. The floor had several office suites and sixty professional-level employees that came to work every day. There were state-of-the-art computer systems and some of the best technicians and system administrators in Mexico. Accountants, attorneys, and business professionals filled the offices on the second floor. Adjacent to the conference room at the end of the hallway, stood his office. Billions of dollars in assets were handled out of his house. Organized crime, after all, was still a business.
“We’ve managed to find a couple of weak spots along, here, here, and here,” his field commander said, pointing to a large map projected on the wall.
“Have we been successful in guessing the rotation of the officers?” Nacho asked.
“We’re getting a better idea. With the amount of cargo and people we’re sending across, their lines are beginning to weaken slightly, and we’re discovering some weak points, as I said.” He pointed to the map again.
“Very well done, Caesar. And the CBP agent?”
“At your request, I’ve aborted that mission. Reyes is back at the compound.”
“Good. I have other plans. Continue with the current traffic and increase it over the next two weeks. We have a rather large shipment that I plan to send across soon. I need them as distracted as they can possibly be,” he said as his secretary handed him a note. A single line in the message caught his attention. Item recovered. Waiting for your final orders. “Thank Eli for bringing Mora to me.” He turned to his finance executive. “Give Eli Reyes a five-thousand-dollar bonus for a job well done.”
Nacho walked out of the large conference room and into the warm summer day. As he walked through his flower garden, he inhaled and smiled in wistful regret. Despite the heat of the dry season, he demanded that his landscapers maintain the huge flower garden. It had been one of the few extravagant indulgences he allowed himself.
It reminded him of his precious daughter lost to him over twenty years ago. He recalled how she would skip through the rainforest gardens that lined the paths of their home in Panama and pick the flowers along the way. She’d been the most beautiful and perfect thing in his life. Everything he did and every penny he made was dedicated to his one and only child. He’d been determined to give her the best life he could possibly give her after her mother’s untimely death in childbirth. He considered his little Anita a gift from God.
Nacho recalled every detail about his daughter as if she were still running in front of him. He used to enjoy the way her long blonde hair flowed down her back as she ran ahead of him in the gardens. Her smile rivaled the sun when she laughed, and it brought brightness and warmth into his day. Anita would pick flowers and place them on his desk with a note telling him she loved him before she went to school. He felt the familiar pang of sadness and loss when he thought about his beautiful baby girl and wondered how Minster Bakri was coming along with his information.
Entering the small warehouse that the gardens hid from the main house, he found the room and stepped inside. He glanced between one of his soldiers to the man secured by his wrists on a hook attached to the ceiling, his toes barely touching the floor. Nacho took a deep breath.
Why do people make me resort to being an animal? Why can’t they tell me the truth the first time?
The man on the hook was battered, cut, and bloody. Juan Mora had been beaten and tortured for the last three days. They’d managed to keep him alive long enough to obtain the information Nacho needed. He walked around Mora as his soldier roughly grabbed the man’s face and forced him to focus. Nacho noted that they’d removed one of his eyes during this brutal torture session.
“Why did you let them search my house in Douglas?” Nacho asked.
“I had no choice, they had a warrant.”
The raspy answer forced him to listen carefully because Mora’s vocal cords had been damaged.
“Where’s my money?” Nacho asked.
“It was seized.”
“Who was the officer in charge?”
“There were three new ones I’d never seen before. Two of them found the money and the heroin. The other was talking to the bosses. He was different.”
“How so?” Nacho asked as he turned away and walked to a table in the corner of the room.
“Por favor, señor,” the man pleaded as he sobbed.
“Where’s the video from the house?” Nacho asked.
“I have it,” Mora said with hope in his voice. “I’ve told them where to find it.”
Nodding in affirmation, his man picked up a disc. He walked back to the prisoner and snapped his fingers. He had the beaten man l
owered down and helped to a chair. Mora attempted a smile as best he could with his battered face. Nacho smiled in return as well as he walked around him, put a gun to the back of his head, and fired a single shot. He breathed deeply and glanced down at the blood that had splattered on his white shirt when the bullet entered the man’s brain. He watched as Mora slid to the floor then put the gun back in its place on the table.
“Nacho, do you want me to find these men?” Eli asked, stepping inside the room. “You just got back. Let someone else go while you go see your family for a few days.”
“Yes, sir,” Eli said.
“Or is there someone special you’d like to go back and see?” Nacho asked with a knowing smile.
“No, sir, no one.”
“You took a gamble making a deal for the agent we wanted to bring here, I believe the agent is female?” Nacho turned to Eli and smiled knowingly. “I think there is someone.”
“My job comes first. I hate aborting a mission.”
He glanced at the young man. Eli was a model soldier and perfectionist when it came to a mission, a young man after Nacho’s heart. But there was nothing more distracting than throwing a woman into a man’s path. And Eli had become a man clearly infatuated.
“I’ve been in love before. I know how you feel. Being separated from her is painful.” Taking the towel from the hook next to the sink, he dried his hands after washing them. He would need to change his shirt once he got back to the house before he returned to his office. “Believe it or not, I understand. As long as she’s with you and quiet, you have my word she’ll stay safe.”
The young man nodded.
“Let me review the disc to see how much of a threat they are, then I’ll let Caesar know if I need you to go back.”
* * * *
Sheriff Wright pulled up to the Macey ranch house and walked inside. He never knocked at the front door because it wasn’t necessary. He and Wes Macey had been friends all of their lives. Hell, they weren’t friends; they were brothers. Through thick and thin, they’d always had each other’s back. Today could be the day it came to an end. He found Wes in his office in the back of the house sitting in front of the TV drinking his usual nighttime whiskey.
“Well? Did you talk to him?” Sheriff Wright asked.
“Not yet. I need you to fix this, Mason. I need Jax and Rio to get married because I need the Jensen ranch. I’ve been working on this deal for the last six months, and they’re one of my last holdouts.”
Mason Wright was appalled and didn’t have the words right away to answer such an impossible and outlandish demand.
“Are you out of your mind? I can’t fix this! In case you missed the news, Rio Jensen is a customs and border patrol agent. Translated, that means federal government. The fucking FBI is crawling up my ass right now. You’ll be lucky if your son doesn’t see prison time for this!”
“You need to make this go away somehow. Talk to her and get her to drop that restraining order and the charges.”
“Wes! You’re not hearing me. That restraining order was signed by a federal judge in Tucson. It was filed on her behalf by the Department of Justice. She’s a material witness in an active investigation in which Jax is a suspect. Rio couldn’t stop this even if she wanted to. I can’t make this go away. It’s out of my hands! As a federal agent, if he goes near her, she has the right to use deadly force. She could kill him and walk away. You’d better find another way to get that damn ranch.”
“My contacts are putting some pressure on me to close this deal!”
Taking a step back, he knew he’d been right. Jax might not have been the one involved with Rio Jensen’s kidnapping. By the beads of sweat that had just broken out on his friend’s upper lip, Wes might have been the one who’d instigated this mess. It had been hell throwing off the FBI from his last escapade with the Genovese family. It would be impossible to throw them off the trail of a cartel that’d kidnapped and almost killed a CBP agent.
“Wes, I have no idea who you’re involved with, and I don’t want to know. I will tell you this; if it’s anything to do with the Montenegro cartel, then cut the ties. They think Jax is involved, and it won’t be long before they start looking at the money trail, which will lead right back to you. If you want that land, marry Marissa Jensen yourself.”
“That bastard husband of hers sealed that deal pretty tight. She has no rights to that land; the kids have it all. I need that land!”
“Then you ain’t getting that damn land, and you need to figure out something else. You need to talk to your son and get him another girlfriend, preferably one that doesn’t carry a gun for a living.”
Chapter 15
1515 Santa Cruz St.
Bisbee, Arizona
July 4, 2010/1440 Zulu
Dan paced the kitchen while Rio made breakfast. Damn her! She hadn’t budged about the reunion, and now the day had arrived. He’d tried everything he could think of to persuade her to go with him or at least go to the after party at St. Elmo’s. No dice. She wasn’t going, and that had been that. If this was her idea of control, they were about to have a problem. He didn’t want to leave her alone right now because he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still in danger. Being at a party where he’d be distracted and without her wouldn’t keep her safe. She turned, and he ran into her, making her almost drop the glass bowl she held.
“Danny! Go to the other room, or go for a run. Just get out of my way.”
“Change your mind!”
“No!”
“I don’t want to go without you. It’s just a picnic after the parade today!”
“I’m going to the coaster race and the parade with you. I don’t need to go to the reunion. Go. Have fun.”
It was clear to him she meant what she said. He knew she genuinely wanted him to have a great time, but he didn’t want to go anywhere without her, especially right now. Why couldn’t she bend just this once? He grabbed her roughly and spun her around to face him.
“Go with me!” Schotzie stood and growled when he grabbed her. “Lie down!” he snapped at the dog.
The German shepherd sat and whined and looked between them uncertain about what to do.
“You’re confusing her! What the hell did you expect her to do?” Rio asked as she squirmed out of his grasp.
Dan turned and stalked to the bedroom and put on his running shoes. While tying his shoes, Schotzie came and lay at his feet. Rio had once told him that dogs, like people, had feelings. He recalled laughing at her because he didn’t believe it. Now, as he caught a glimpse of the hurt and confusion in Schotzie’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure.
“Come here, girl,” he called gently. During that same conversation, she’d also explained pack structure and how things work in the dog world. Schotzie had accepted him as one of her pack leaders, and he’d rebuked her just now. “I’m sorry. I’d never hurt momma,” he said as he rubbed her neck affectionately. “Want to go for a short run with me?”
The dog yipped happily and licked his face. He walked to the front room and picked up the leash sitting on the table beside the door. Darkness hadn’t faded out of the morning sky, but he could see the faint signs of the sun rising off in the distance as he started down the street. What he really wanted to do was run as hard as he could. It had been his way of getting himself into what he found out later was subspace. He would work out or run so hard that he could trigger the release of epinephrine and dump endorphins into his system giving him a sense of detachment from reality. His reaction to certain types of pain, he’d found, triggered intense pleasure in him.
That reaction to pain had helped him get through BUD/S and SQTs during the most grueling sections of his training. Instead of fighting it like the others, he welcomed the pain because of the high it gave him. When his mind got to the right place, he wouldn’t feel the discomfort anymore, and he could push through. Afterward, when he’d finally been allowed to sleep or relax, he would come back refreshed and brand-new.
Wh
en he got to one of his first assignments, he’d met Alex Richards, whom everyone called Doc, a nickname given to all SEAL medics. They’d been assigned to the same tactical team that had been responsible for some heavy fighting in Iraq and became close friends. Alex noticed Dan’s tendency to overdo his workouts and gave him the benefit of this observation after he’d hurt himself.
“Basically you’re a pain whore. You like what it does to you,” Doc said.
“What? No, I’m not!”
“Why wouldn’t you? I know I do. It’s like being on morphine. It relaxes the hell out of you, and it’s legal. No piss test in the world will pick up on a drug that your body produces. You just need to be careful.”
“Doc, I’m not a freak. I overdid this workout. Wrap it up so I can get back to business.”
Doc took a step back. “So what if you’re a freak? Who the hell do you owe an explanation to? If you like it, do it. Just be careful, and learn to control it. Or find someone who can help you control it.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Alex glanced off into the distance. “We’re going on a field trip tonight. You’ll find out something about me that very few people know and almost no one in the teams knows. It’s a place we shouldn’t be, so if you tell anybody on the teams about it, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
They were stationed in Stuttgart, Germany. Later that night, Doc had opened his eyes to a world he never knew existed, BDSM. They’d gone to a private house in a nice area of the city. When they entered, they were greeted by a woman Alex seemed to know quite well.
“This is Lady Gretchen. She owns this dungeon, and she’s a Domme. She trains Dominants as well as submissives. We were friends when she lived in LA.”
“Alex was more than a friend. He was my mentor,” Lady Gretchen said.
At first, Dan didn’t know how to process what he’d been shown. So, he’d only watched the scenes play out in the dungeons of the club. It bothered him to be so attracted to this new world. Lady Gretchen had offered to work with him and train him. He had an idea where he fit in. Being a US Naval officer and a SEAL made him about as dominant as a man could get.
