“Vargas is an intense guy.”
“You think?” She chuckled, sliding her arms around his neck. “He has to be like Man of the Year for most of the morgues and cemeteries from here to Colombia.”
“Hey, hey. I don’t concern myself with that part of the business. I’m a money man.”
“I get that, but . . . why a big flashy party?”
“Who knows? But it would’ve been rude to turn down the invitation.”
“It’s just . . . odd.” She shook her head. “Does everybody else at the party know what he does?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“One I’d like an answer to. I ask too many questions, and you don’t ask enough.”
He chuckled.
“Well, at least it’ll be a night away from my mother.”
Javid kissed his wife but still rolled his eyes. “I thought you two were starting to get along.”
“I swear you never listen to a muthafuckin’ word I say.”
“Don’t start. Of course, I do. It’s just that—”
“What? Because we haven’t killed each other, it must mean we get along?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah. It’s been my experience that’s how you can tell whether any two women are getting along.”
“Not funny.”
“Not trying to be.” Javid glanced at his watch. “How late is fashionably late again?” He grasped hold of her dress’s zipper as his eyes met hers in the mirror. “Up or down?”
“We’re already running late,” she teased, eyes sparkling.
“So this is the one night you don’t want to be fashionably late?”
She smiled while his hands roamed her body-hugging Valentino gown and glided over the curves of her hips. “You have no right to be so fuckin’ sexy. You know that?”
The back of her gown rose.
“You clean up well, too, Mr. Armani suit.”
“You think so?” His fingers brushed beneath one breast while his other hand found the waistband of her Cosabella panties and tugged.
“You’re naughty,” she said.
“Yeah, but you don’t mind, right?” His breath warmed the crook of her neck.
Instantly moist, Klaudya entertained the idea of a quickie. A giggle bubbled up her throat. “What are you doing back there, Mr. Armani?”
“What do you think?” Javid squeezed and spread her ass cheeks. “So fuckin’ fat.”
“Yeah?” She gave it a jiggle. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Javid unzipped his pants. “What the fuck do you think I’m going to do? Huh?” He locked an arm around her waist and dragged her over to the closet’s golden chaise, where he quickly bent her over its arm. With her ass up, he took his time caressing and squeezing.
Klaudya grinned as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Now that it’s in your face, whatcha gonna do with it?”
Javid knelt as he grinned back. “The only thing you can do with a big, beautiful chocolate cake. I’m going to eat it.”
Whatever trash talk she was about to say died on her lips the second his silky tongue slid in between her cheeks. From there on, she was in heaven.
Nichelle wasn’t going to miss this party for anything in the world. How could she? A house filled with rich muthafuckas? Shit. Klaudya wasn’t the only one with skills on how to get on. At forty-four, she still had a body that men did double-takes to check out. Like Cinderella, all she needed was a gown. Klaudya would never miss the few pieces of jewelry Nichelle had lifted from her vast collection to pawn off to pay for a Gucci gown. Hell, she was going to return the damn thing tomorrow anyway and pocket the cash.
As for the kids, fuck baking cookies and playing with dolls all night. Let Ruthie take care of that shit since she liked it so much.
No fancy limousine, but a rented Mercedes did the job. Nichelle arrived at the Vargas’s fancy party with a fake invitation. She had copied Javid and Klaudya’s. However, she was surprised to be stopped by a wall of tough-looking security men with visible weapons on their hips.
Curious looks from the glittering party guests floated her way and Nichelle’s face grew hot. She hadn’t gone through all this trouble to be humiliated even before she was in the door.
“It’s all right, gentlemen,” a rich baritone told the brick wall of security. “Ms. Mathis is a distinguished guest.”
As if by a commandment from Moses, the wall of muscles parted and revealed a handsome and distinguished Latino. Money and power radiated off the man in waves. Instantly, Nichelle’s knees weakened and her tits tightened against her Gucci gown. “My hero.”
“My lady.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I see where your daughter inherited her beauty. Exquisite.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Drink?” He turned toward a passing waiter’s tray as if he had eyes on the back of his head and swooped two chilled champagne glasses.
“Thank you.” She accepted the offered glass and took a tentative sip as she eyed him.
“So how long have you been out of prison? Four months?”
Nichelle choked.
He grinned. “Murder, wasn’t it? Two counts?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry. I like a woman with spunk.”
Nichelle stood shell-shocked, debating whether to curse this muthafucka out or slap the shit out of him. But his power still radiated and prevented her. “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. . . . ”
“Vargas. Emilio Vargas.”
Nichelle’s heart stopped. Surely, she’d heard him wrong. He couldn’t be the Emilio Vargas who ran one of the biggest drug cartels in Mexico. Could he? She took another look at the man’s luxurious home while more pieces of the puzzle finally snapped together. A financial advisor, my ass.
Vargas spotted Javid with a glowing Klaudya on his arm. “Ah, if it’s not the man of the hour.”
Something clicked inside of Nichelle. She’d acknowledged Javid was a good-looking man, but there was something about seeing him in a suit that pushed all her right buttons.
“You have a beautiful daughter,” Vargas complimented again.
“Huh? What?”
Vargas frowned. “Your daughter. She is a beauty.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Her attention drifted back to Javid as he swiped champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one over to Klaudya.
However, Klaudya had already spotted her mother in the crowd. Her fiery gaze smote Nichelle where she stood.
Vargas didn’t miss a thing. “I take it you and your daughter aren’t exactly on good terms. Pity.”
Nichelle dismissed his observation with a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing time won’t fix.”
Vargas lifted a single brow but said nothing.
Javid and Klaudya made small talk with the other guests as they crept a beeline toward Vargas and Nichelle.
“Señor Vargas.” Javid extended his hand. “I didn’t know you knew my mother-in-law.”
“Actually, we just met,” he said. “Fascinating woman, I must say. You’re a fortunate man to have two beauties under one roof.”
“It’s temporary,” Klaudya said icily, but her smile was as warm as the sun.
“I see.”
At the front door, Javid’s business partner, Arlington Chase, entered the party with a leggy blonde.
“If you ladies could excuse us, I’d like to have a private word with Mr. Ramsey here.”
“As long as you promise to bring him back in one piece,” Klaudya challenged, still smiling.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He winked and, to Javid, he said, “Shall we?”
“Of course.” Javid kissed his wife’s hand and departed with Vargas.
Nichelle stepped closer to her daughter while they watched the men go. “You want to tell me how your husband happens to know the man who runs one of the most dangerous Colombian drug cartels?”
Ari’s smile melted when he spotted Vargas. His troop of muscled and armed henchmen pa
rted the crowd. However, he rebounded and slapped on a smile by the time Javid and Vargas stopped in front of him and his date.
“Evening, gentlemen,” Ari greeted. “Señor Vargas.” He stretched out a hand, which Vargas ignored.
“My office,” Vargas said and kept moving.
“Of course,” Ari responded and abandoned his date.
At Vargas’s home office, two men posted outside of the door and two men inside. A few seconds later, Henry Goodson and his two sons, who worked the docks for Vargas, were also escorted inside. They greeted everyone with bright smiles and firm handshakes. Javid had to look close to notice their nervousness.
Javid and Ari didn’t dare sit before their host.
“Can I get anyone a drink?” Vargas offered, making a sudden detour toward the bar.
Everyone politely refused the offer. It was best to be clearheaded when talking to the kingpin.
“I’m not going to take up much of your time,” Vargas said. “I want everyone to get back and enjoy the party.”
“We’re thrilled you invited us.” Javid tried to relax but found it impossible. “I’ve been following your son’s reelection campaign. It looks like he has this one in the bag.”
“My son’s reelection campaign does eat a lot of my time. You have no idea how much bribes have gone up in four years.”
The men laughed.
“Yeah, whatever happened to loyalty? Eh? It’s hard to believe there was once a time when men were men of their words. Today?” He sighed. “Not so much. Everyone is obsessed with fucking over everyone else. Everywhere I go, more and more people sneak their hands into my pockets.” Vargas’s gaze hardened as it leveled on his financial advisors. “But you two know about that, right?”
The cheap laughs evaporated and the business partners exchanged alarmed glances.
“I mean, I pay you guys a lot to wash my money, but I’m getting reports saying shit ain’t adding up.”
Ari shook his head and blurted, “If so, it’s not on our end.”
“Yeah, all our numbers are legit,” Javid vouched. “I run the numbers twice every week myself.”
Vargas hung his head.
“It has to be on the other end. What? You’re dealing with hundreds of shady dealers, distributors, and packaging plants?” Ari laughed. “That’s where you’re going to find your discrepancy, not here. Not with us.”
Javid’s heart hammered.
Emilio opened his top desk drawer, pulled out a Glock . 45, and set it in the center of his desk. The conversation shut down and the tension thickened.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Ari lifted his hands in surrender. “There is no need for this. There must be some misunderstanding somewhere. We’re more than willing to help clear it up. Ain’t that right, guys?”
The men agreed—everyone except for Javid. His life streamed in front of his eyes. Was this it? Had he rolled the dice one too many times? Why didn’t he get out of the game after his initial five-year plan? How did Ari talk him into laundering for another five years? Or was there an option? Did anyone ever retire from the cartel?
“A misunderstanding?” Vargas repeated, amused. “How so?”
Ari drew a blank. “I-I don’t know. I guess we need to review everyone’s books. I know our firm is meticulous. I’m confident whatever error you’ve found is not on our part.”
Vargas glared at Ari so long, Javid thought the kingpin was reading his partner’s DNA.
“What about you, Henry?”
Henry Goodson owned a shipping and trucking company out of Los Angeles. Javid and Ari didn’t know all of the intricacies of how Vargas got his product through the ports, but they knew Henry and his sons had worked for Vargas far longer than they had.
“Me?” Henry asked, blinking like he’d finished reviewing his own life. “I have no idea. You know I run a tight ship. All my men are top-notch and loyal.”
“Loyal?” Vargas repeated. “Loyalty is the one thing I value above all else. I mean, without loyalty in this business—you’re nothing.” As fast as a serpent’s strike, Vargas picked up the gun and fired a single shot into the center of Henry’s head.
“Oh, shit!” Ari sprung out his chair and backpedaled. “Oh, shit!”
Javid remained rooted in his seat next to the dead man. Despite the calm exterior, inside he was on the brink of a heart attack.
“I’ll ask you one time.” Vargas leveled his gaze on the Goodson boys. “How did you do it?”
Blake Goodson shook his head,
Logan Goodson spilled his guts. “It was Blake’s idea. I didn’t even want to do it. He came to me.”
“The fuck?” Blake smacked his brother on the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up.”
“It’s true. Pop had no idea,” Logan cried. “We’re sorry.”
Vargas looked at Ari. “You see how loyalty works?”
Ari looked to Javid who, beneath his expensive suit, was covered in sweat.
Logan pleaded, “Look, Señor Vargas. We can make it right. It was a huge mistake and we’ll never do it again.”
“Are you going to make me ask twice?” Vargas said.
“The scales,” Logan said. “The gas scales were adjusted to read full when they were light. But we will make it up to you. We will work for free. Whatever it takes.”
“How much?”
“Twelve million over the past five years,” Logan confessed, unaware of Vargas’s heavies creeping up behind him. “Please, we can—”
Two more succinct shots were fired, silencing Logan as he and Blake dropped like lead balloons.
Ari’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head as they shifted from Vargas to Javid, and then to the dead bodies lying on the floor.
“Fucking thieves.” Vargas stuffed his weapon back into his drawer. “I can’t fucking stand them. No matter how good you are to people, they just leech off of you until they drain every ounce of blood from you. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, but you don’t have that problem with us,” Ari croaked. “We believe in loyalty. One hundred percent. Isn’t that right, Javid?”
Javid nodded. “Absolutely.”
Vargas grinned. “See? That’s why I like you two. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’m expanding our operation, and I’m going to need you guys to wash more money—faster. After this mayoral race, my boy has his eye on the presidency, and power doesn’t come cheap.”
“Expand?” Javid stared at the dead bodies as Vargas’s men rolled them into a rug.
Vargas stopped next to the bar. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“It’ll be a challenge,” Javid admitted, running numbers through his head.
“But not a problem,” Ari amended, cheesing despite the sweat glossing his forehead.
“Ah, good.” Vargas smiled. “Whiskey?”
Ari nodded.
Javid asked, “Can you make it a double?” when he wanted the whole damn bottle.
After tossing back the alcohol, Vargas pounded them on the back. “Let’s get you back to the party. We can discuss reviewing the numbers another time.”
Javid exhaled, relieving his burning lungs.
Vargas continued, “You guys just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Yes, sir,” Javid and Ari echoed before falling in line behind the kingpin.
However, Javid’s heart hit the floor when he spotted Klaudya, barefoot and on a centerpiece table, dancing like she was back on the pole. The crowd around her cheered her on.
“What in the hell?”
Vargas chuckled. “I see some things never change. Eh, Ramsey?”
CHAPTER 13
The storm
“Is Grandma going to camp with us?” Mykell accepted his s’mores from the fireplace.
Javid sighed. “I’m not sure, li’l man. But we’re having fun, right?”
“Yeah,” Mya co-signed. “We don’t need her around every time we do something.”
“Mya,” Javid chastised.
�
��What?” Her large hazel eyes blinked. “We don’t.”
“No,” he agreed. “But . . . be nice.”
Determination glinted in her eyes. “I am being nice. Just because I don’t see why she has to always be around, don’t mean I’m not a nice person.”
Javid traipsed lightly. “No, I’m not saying you aren’t a nice person.”
“You’re suggesting it,” she countered.
Javid had a future lawyer on his hands. His daughter didn’t know how to walk away from an argument. “I’m not saying you are bad. It’s just what you’re saying isn’t nice.”
Her frown deepened. “What’s the difference?”
At this point, he didn’t know.
Mykell rode to the rescue with a mouthful of melted marshmallow. “Nice people can say not nice things just like mean people do sometimes. Anyway, I like having Grandma around. She’s nice.”
Javid smiled. “Thanks, son. I’m sure she likes hanging around you, too.”
Mya made a face. “Nichelle isn’t nice. She’s pretending to be nice.”
“Mya,” Javid thundered.
“What? It’s true. She doesn’t even like us calling her ‘Grandma.’ She’s too busy trying to take Mom’s place. I don’t even think she wants her to come back home.”
“That’s not true,” Javid countered, floored by the words flowing out of his daughter’s mouth.
Mya’s gaze narrowed. “Do you want Momma to come home?”
“What? What kind of question is that?”
Mya’s thin shoulders bounced. “I don’t know. A regular one. Do you?”
“Of course, I want your mother to come home. I want her to get better and get back to being a good mother to you and Mykell.” He covered her hands. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Mya eased her hands out from under his and refused to answer his question.
The maneuver was a dagger to the heart. “Mya, baby . . .”
“I’m going to invite Grandma to come camp here with us,” Mykell announced, springing from his sleeping bag. “Maybe she’s not here because we didn’t invite her?”
“No, don’t,” Mya barked.
“Dad, where’s the flashlight?” Mykell asked.
Still troubled by the conversation with his daughter, Javid didn’t hear Mykell until he shouted his name a third time. “Huh?”
No Loyalty Page 8
