by Dee Garcia
Copyright 2020 © Dee Garcia
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the reader of this ebook ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Cover Design © Dee Garcia with Black Widow Designs
Editing: © Mitzi Carroll
Formatting: © Dee Garcia with Black Widow Designs
Contents
Note from the author
Playlist
Prologo
I. Parte Uno
Capítulo 1 - Benni
Capítulo 2 - Benni
Capítulo 3 - Benni
Capítulo 4 - Benni
Capítulo 5 - Benni
Capítulo 6 - Benni
Arcángel
II. Parte Dos
Capítulo 7 - Benni
Capítulo 8 - Benni
Capítulo 9 - Andrés
Capítulo 10 - Benni
Capítulo 11 - Andrés
Capítulo 12 - Benni
Capítulo 13 - Andrés
Capítulo 14 - Benni
Capítulo 15 - Andrés
Capítulo 16 - Benni
Capítulo 17 - Andrés
Capítulo 18 - Benni
Capítulo 19 - Andrés
Capítulo 20 - Benni
Capítulo 21 - Andrés
Capítulo 22 - Benni
Capítulo 23 - Andrés
Capítulo 24 - Benni
Capítulo 25 - Andrés
Capítulo 26 - Benni
Capítulo 27 - Andrés
Capítulo 28 - Benni
Capítulo 29 - Benni
Capítulo 30 - Andrés
Capítulo 31 - Benni
Arcángel
Sneak Peek of Book Two
Also by Dee Garcia
About the Author
Dedication
This one is for me.
Because there’s so much of me in it.
Note from the author
Dear readers,
If you couldn’t tell by the dedication or the mass amount of love that went into me talking about this book, it means a lot to me, has so much of me in it. I know I can’t please everyone and that it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but all I ask is that you give my Birdy girl and her boys a chance. <3 Now while you guys get to reading, I’m gonna go get crackin’ on book two. ;)
XOXO, Dee
P.S: When you reach the end, make sure you flip the page.
1. Crown - JAY-Z
2. Bitch Better Have My Money - Rihanna
3. Delincuente - Farruko & Anuel AA
4. En La Intimidad - Ozuna
5. Circles - Post Malone
6. Bad Things - MGK & Camila Cabello
7. Locked Up (Remix) Akon & Styles P
8. Chances - Jill Barber
9. MAMACITA - Black Eyed Peas & Ozuna
10. STFD - TeZATalks
11. She Is My Dream - The Tads
12. Get You Some - Captain Planet & Brit Lauren
13. Suga Suga - Baby Bash & Frankie J
14. Yikes - Nicki Minaj
15. Algo Me Gusta De Ti - Wisin & Yandel
16. Dear Mama - 2Pac
17. Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz & Yacht Money
18. Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande
19. Got You On My Mind - NF
20. Self Control - Bebe Rexha
21. Loco Contigo - DJ Snake, J Balvin & Tyga
22. Bad Idea - Ariana Grande
23. Te Lo Quiero Hacer - KAROL G & De La Ghetto
24. Way down We Go - KALEO
25. I’m Upset - Drake
26. Down in Flames - Ella Vos
27. The Night We Met - Lord Huron
28. Coming Down - Halsey
29. lovely - Billie Eilish & Khalid
30. Don’t Let Go - Farruko
31. It’s All Right - Sam Cooke
Listen to the playlist here: https://bit.ly/birdyUE1
My name is Benita Adriana Villanueva.
I go by Benni—Birdy, or la Jefa on the streets. I’m twenty-eight, an illegal Cuban immigrant, served two separate sentences in County, and now, well…have a seat, court’s in session.
As I sit here beside my attorney, elbows to the table, my head hanging low between my shoulders… I won’t lie to you.
I fucked up.
For real, this time.
This isn’t me getting caught selling a few baggies down in Calle Ocho or riding around with an ounce with the intent to distribute. Na, I fucked up royally, and now, they’re about to rip me a new one. Drown me in this hell of reality.
“All rise for the jury.” The bailiff's booming voice snaps my head up.
Sounds of shuffling fill the room as the entire courtroom rises onto their feet. One by one, the jury begins filtering back to their seats, my shaky hands smoothing out the olive-green blouse Mami insisted I wear.
She’s here behind me with my brother and my sister, the despaired echo of her hushed sobs meeting my ears every few moments or so. I can’t stand to hear them. They’re nothing more than a painful reminder of just how glaringly I’ve let her down.
I’m practically choking on my sins.
“Please be seated,” the judge orders, dropping everyone into their seats once more. “The record should cite that all jurors are present, all attorneys and represented parties are present. Will the defendant and counsel please rise?”
On my feet yet again, directly in the spotlight as the courtroom bounces their stares between the judge, the jury, or me.
My heart thunders in my chest.
“Will the jury’s foreperson please rise?”
An older white female in a tweed pantsuit stands with papers in hand.
The judge acknowledges her with a subtle tip of his bald head. “Madam foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge nods a second time, his sharp green eyes bouncing to my form for the briefest moment before returning to the woman. “As to the charge of trafficking a large commercial quantity of Schedule II drugs, what is your verdict?”
Thump…
Thump…
Thump…
This is it, the singular moment that will change everything moving forward.
The woman clears her throat, shoulders confidently squaring as she drops her gaze to the papers in her hands. “We, the jury, find the defendant, Benita Adriana Villanueva, guilty.”
♫ Crown - JAY-Z
“Ángel!” I cry out, throwing my head back as he rams into me within the tight confines of his car.
I’m a sweating mess—my long, ebony hair clinging to my skin. Every window of the Renovatio is fogged in, and the pungent scent of weed hangs heavy in the air, whirling around us in a dense, warm cloud. We’ve been at it like rabbits for at least an hour now, stopping only long enough to relight the blunt and take a few more hits.
“Ese totito, mami.” That pussy. “Fuck…” he groans, grip tightening on my hips as he rams into me and takes another pull. “I’m gonna bust again.”
That’s number two, for both of us, ‘
cause I’m right there with him. Three more pumps as he slides a long finger in my ass, and that’s it—I’m done, flying over the edge. Ángel comes with a volatile hiss, a plume of smoke billowing from his nose right as my hands slam down on the seat beside his head. All the air just about leaves my lungs, prompting him to cut off my supply further with a fiendish grip around my throat. I’m seeing fucking stars at this point, wave after all-consuming wave rocking through me, possessing me, drowning me. He’s holding me down on his dick, forcing me to ride it out as he fills me with his hot cum.
Thank fuck I’m on the pill. I would’ve been pregnant long ago otherwise.
When his grip eases, I collapse on top of him, breathless, exhausted, high as fuck. Ángel hums appreciatively, the tips of his ringed and very tattooed fingers lazily running down my bare back as we come down to reality, his cock pulsing inside me. It’s quiet for a beat until the sound of his palm striking my bare ass erupts abruptly, followed by two soft groans from our lips as he rolls into me again. “I can’t get enough of you, Benni. Te quiero todita.” I want all of you.
“I can’t no more. I’m tapping out for tonight,” I pant, literally tapping the side of the seat. “I’m already going to be walking funny as hell tomorrow, all coja and shit.” All limp.
Ángel’s chest vibrates with amusement. “That’s the point. I want you to remember me all day while you’re waiting those tables. Every move you make will scream Ángel was here.”
It won’t just be tomorrow, though. No, I’ll feel the aftermath of Hurricane Ángel for days. And then it’ll wear off, and I’ll be fiending like a junkie searching for their next fix, waiting out the weeks until he finally comes back to me.
Where he goes, I don’t know, but I don’t ask questions. That’s how our arrangement works: long-distance with absolutely no strings. I don’t know shit about him that isn’t business-related, and what he knows about me is because I solely work for him.
I don’t even know his last name.
You see, Ángel—the faceless, illusive Arcángel to the rest of the world—owns the Upper Echelon, an international, highly-covert organization of different syndicates bringing in millions of dollars per year to the man. He remains unknown in the obscurity of the shadows, hidden behind his pit bulls who delegate the workload amongst us. He doesn’t lift a single finger, either, unless it's to sign our checks. Not a soul dares to complain nor question his modus operandi, for we are the elite—brimming with the power and luxuries he’s bestowed upon us for our loyalty and fierce work ethic.
Each syndicate provides him a different source of income. The Bratva import and export the finest women around the world. The Irish wash cash and produce the Cadillac of counterfeit. The Yakuza eliminate deadweight and shady ass comemierdas.
And then there’s me—la Jefa of los Marielitos. Most of us came here on rafts, made the ninety-mile trek from Havana to the Keys. The younger few are second-generation Cuban-Americans, but they work just as hard. With the port right in our backyard, we’re in charge of product: large street-grade quantities and black-market prescriptions.
The only difference between the rest of the Upper Echelon and me?
Arcángel chose to forego anonymity when it came to me. He recruited me personally, swore me to secrecy with my name scripted in blood on the dotted line, and after a couple of months under his thumb—making him more profit than the other mobs combined—he made his move.
He wanted me, and now he’s got me. Everything was gravy at first, the perfect arrangement: prime dick without strings, but I should’ve known a fine, fine, and sinful man like Arcángel would change the definition of perfect eventually. Lately, he’s got me chomping at the bit for more and more every time he touches down in Miami.
“Déjame quedarme esta noche contigo,” he murmurs. Let me stay the night with you.
The words haven’t even fully registered, and my entire body goes rigid in his hold.
What the hell...
To say I’m shocked is only putting it lightly. Is it what I’ve been low-key wanting? Yes. But that doesn’t lessen the utter and unexpected surprise of his request. Ángel never spends the night. Ever. Hell, we rarely even fuck in a bed. Most of the time, this car is our spot. On select occasions, I’ve found myself beneath him in various hotel suites, and on a few rare others, he’s taken me in my bed. He owns a vacation home here, admitted that much to me over a year ago, but he’s never taken me there.
Could that change tonight?
With what little strength I have left, I ease back, my pussy clenching around his semi-hard length as I take him in within the obscurity of night. The sight of him makes me clench harder.
He really is beautiful.
Aside from those hypnotizing gray irises and his smooth, slightly sun-kissed skin, everything else about the man is dark, hard, and delicious. A straight nose, prominent cheekbones, full lips, and a square, stubble-dusted jaw make up his face. He keeps his dark hair short, too, like buzzed short, but God does it suits him well.
Shows off all those tats creeping up his neck.
“Where?” I ask him, ignoring the renewed heartbeat of my clit.
“Where else, mami?” He chuckles. “En esa casita tuya.” In that little house of yours.
Of course. I don’t know why I thought any differently. The man is elusive for a reason, and aside from knowing what he looks like—and what his fat cock feels like inside me—I’m no more special than any of his other employees.
So why does he want to stay with me all of a sudden?
“You never stay the night, though. Why now?” It’s not that I don’t want him to, I’m truly just...stunned.
Ángel grins, that signature devious smirk of his playing on his lips as he pins me with that overcast stare. “I told you, I can’t get enough of you. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, pero te lo juro que últimamente I leave here, and you’re all I think about.
He swears you’re all he thinks about.
Doubtful.
“You sure you don’t mean my pussy?”
“Both.” His grin spreads, a greedy stare dropping to where we’re connected. “If I could have you every day, I would, and that’s exactly what I want.” Palm ghosting up my side, he squeezes my tit and gives it a little slap, then continues up to my jaw, his grip gentle yet still commanding.
“You wouldn’t be able to handle me on the daily. I’m a lot to handle,” I counter—as if he weren’t handling me right now with absolutely no problems.
The challenge behind it gets him regardless. Ángel doesn’t like to be told he can’t do something.
Two seconds later, I find my face inches from his. “Why are you underestimating me? You should know better than that.”
“Should I, though? Because I don’t really know much about you.”
A brief silence follows the truth, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. All he offers is that deliciously husky laugh as he drags his lips across my cheek to my ear.
“Are you going to let me spend the night or not?”
I’m not even surprised by his averting ways. At this point, all I want to know is why. “Tell me, why do you want to?”
“Because I need you, Benni. What part of that don’t you understand? Quiero mas,” he whispers. I want more.
“I told you no more tonight…”
“That’s too bad, bebé, ‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you. Te voy a comer completita. Every inch of you.”
I whimper like a total bitch. He wants to eat me alive, and he’ll one-hundred percent follow through if I let him. Which I will because, let’s face it, he’s right. I’m tough, but I’m so in over my head with this man, it’s not even funny.
“Do you even have anything left to come?” I quip, moaning softly when the head of his cock rubs against my clit.
“For you…always, and that’s the problem. It’s becoming clearer that I may never have my fill, but I have to try.” His fingers gently brush my damp hair behind my ear. “I�
��m going to be gone longer this time, mami.”
Everything slams to a halt. I go so still I can hear the nervous and stupidly devastated beat of my heart thrashing in my ears.
Longer?
“How long?” I breathe.
“Almost three months.”
“Ouch, that’s gonna hurt.” My pussy’s practically crying at the thought of not seeing him for that long.
Amongst other things...
“It doesn’t have to.” Feather-light kisses tickle my jaw, stopping and pressing into the corner of my mouth. “When are you going to let me scoop you up and just take you with me, huh?”
He wants to take me with him? Since...when? I’m struck stupid for the second time in minutes. That’s such a loaded question, one whose answer has so many moving parts, feelings. The biggest one?
“When you tell me your last name.”
I couldn’t stop myself from saying it. I had to know. But that, friends, is an answer he’d never give up, and unfortunately for me, one I would desperately need in the years to come. Not that I ever would have known that at that moment because right then, I was ridiculously blinded—by the job, the money, the power, and most importantly—him.
♫ Bitch Better Have My Money - Rihanna
Rule number one: don’t fuck with la Jefa.
It’s a simple concept, all I expect from anyone I do business with. Need an advance? I got you—just don’t fuck with me. Get me my money when it’s due, and we’re straight.
