by AJ Adams
“Rip has proven his worth over and over,” my mouth was flapping before my brain could intervene, “but I’m my father’s daughter. Are you sure you want me here?”
“Everyone wants Morgan,” Rip contradicted me, “but I was certain you’d want me out of your hair now I’m going to be a useful as tits on a boar.”
“You two really are a pair.” Arturo got to his feet. He tapped the side of his glass, calling for quiet. As the hush spread, the crowd in the garden turned to watch. “Stand up, Rip. You too, guapa.”
As everyone stared, Arturo raised his voice, “We’re here to celebrate a new venture, and it’s all due to our two new friends, Rip Marston and Isabella Maria Franco!” And then, right in front of the entire Zeta cartel, he embraced me, kissing me formally on both cheeks. Then Rip got hugged, although more carefully. “Thank you for your loyal service. I’m grateful.”
Everyone stared, and there was a burst of applause. With the jefe’s personal public accolade, we were safe for life. Nobody goes against the boss, not ever.
“You’re part of the family now.” Solitaire grinned.
And then it was champagne all round.
Rip was sitting in a daze, not off-planet as he usually was, but just happy. “I think I’ll make a second vegetable plot,” he mumbled.
Arturo was smiling at him. “I’m jealous,” he said warmly. “Promise you’ll remember me when you harvest your next batch of lettuce, Rip. And come and see me, often.”
He really was a generous man. “Jefe, I’m an idiot,” I said humbly. “I’ve clearly been in with the wrong people.”
At that, Arturo was smiling. “You certainly were.”
“We won’t be a burden. I’ll train apprentices,” I promised. “There’s a workshop opportunity too.”
“But Morgan, that’s not necessary,” Rip protested.
“Why not? You’ve been supporting me for months. It’s my turn. And I earn good money.”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “And I’d love to be a kept man.”
“Awesome. You cook and I’ll sling my wrench.”
But Rip was shaking his head, and Arturo was grinning. “You’d better tell her, Rip.”
There was some secret here. “Tell me what?”
“I have a nest egg. It’s quite generous.”
“Oh, well, it’s good to have a cushion.”
“You’ve got a cushion of a couple of million,” Arturo informed me. “Earnings from a chain of cinemas and theatres.”
“Ohmigod! You mean I’ve found a man who cooks and who’s rich?”
There was a stunned silence from the Zetas, too. Clearly none of them had known either.
Then Chumillo chuckled. “Joder, if I’d known that, I would have made a pass at him.”
“Ay conjo,” Quique shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that!”
Rip was smiling at me. “Does it matter, love?”
“I’m glad you’re rich,” I said slowly, “but I like to keep busy.”
“That’s good to hear.” Solitaire had a martial look in her eye. “While Rip is taking care of lettuce and all things green, you and I can get to work. I was thinking that what we really need, Morgan, is a workshop that specialises in classic cars and bikes. There isn’t one on this side of the border, you know. We can set it up quite easily, I’m told, and we can add on a school for mechanics.”
For a moment time stood still. Freedom, safety and the prospect of good work. Everything I’d yearned for was now within my grasp. All I had to do was reach out and accept it.
Rip’s hand reached out and held mine, “Well, love,” he smiled. “From the sound of things, she’s making an offer you can’t refuse.”
Epilogue: Rip
The mango and lemon trees are laden with fruit, and the peppers, tomatoes, French beans, lettuces, and strawberries will all be ready in a day or two. I was expecting the birds to raid the garden, but I think I went a little overboard with the planting. There’s enough here for a market stall.
Luckily, I'll have no problems gifting this lot. Arturo is nuts about peppers, Leo and Vincente love veg, and Chumillo and Rafa will eat their own weight in fruit, given half a chance. As for the lemons, Morgan's already got dibs on those. They'll go to Solitaire; she's a gin addict.
“Gloating over your strawberries?” Morgan, wearing overalls stained with grease, oil and a dozen kinds of muck, is giggling happily. “Oooh, are the mangoes ripe as well? Yum!”
The sun is shining on her hair, and she’s glowing with health. My golden girl, my life, my love, and my saviour. Whenever I see her, it comes home to me how goddamn lucky I am.
I put my arm around her, feeling the sleek strength of her as I gaze into the charcoal eyes, gold flecks dancing with joy. “Finished for the day?”
“Yes! Trejo just picked up his Corvette.” Morgan is breathy with excitement. “And Rafa just called. He blew his tranny, and so he’s coming round tomorrow.”
“Did he? I always thought that machismo was a little desperate.”
Morgan’s eye rolls are epic. “Please don’t ever say that to him!”
“Never, my sweet.” And for that I get a hug and a grin. She’s so sexy that I can feel my cock stiffen. It’s been a warm day, and she’s deliciously sweaty. Thinking of Morgan in the shower with soap and a sponge, has me harder than oak.
“Oh no! I know what you’re thinking!” Morgan’s backing off, laughing. “We never made it to dinner last night.”
“Who needs to eat when we have the food of love?”
“Me!” My girl says firmly. Then she’s dancing off, giggling, “I’ll be back,” in her best Arnie Schwarzenegger voice.
Morgan likes a tipple at the end of the day, so I’ll make strawberry mojitos. She’ll love that, and there’s nothing better for me than seeing her happy.
We’re doing a lot of that, being happy. I really wasn’t sure if it was possible, but my retirement seems to be working out, just like Morgan said it would.
With Arturo’s expanded territory, a safe zone measuring hundreds of miles surrounds us. Deep in the heartland of cartel territory, we are cocooned from the rest of the world.
Morgan’s workshop lies at the end of our lane, just far enough away from the house to give us privacy but on our own land and secured by Leo and Vincente, who now work for us. She has fulltime apprentices, four of them, and all the Zetas bring their classic rides to her. She also runs classes for Solitaire’s foundation, so she’s busier than the proverbial bees.
Me, I work on the garden and take care of the house. Of course, life is not without some excitement. The Kiev Bratva tried it on a few times. The Zetas picked up three assassins before they even got out of the airport, and then I killed the one who tried to parachute in and another who tried to get here by river.
After that, the big boys back in Kiev decided revenge was taking too much effort. It helps that they’ve got their own wars going on back home keeping them busy. Unless I go awandering, I think they’ve given me up as a bad job.
The Gulf and the Sinaloa were mouthing off about having a go as well. When news of my work became public, they were rather ticked. However, with me taking out so many of their key people, the talk never translated into action.
It’s been a year now, and they’re still having a hell of a time keeping control of their territories. Apart from fighting gangs trying to make hay, they’re fighting amongst themselves over who should be stepping into the power vacuum. As Morgan likes to point out, violence isn’t helping them solve anything.
Given that Arturo’s people are solid and that enemy cartels can’t get within spitting distance, I think I’m probably okay on that front as well. It’s a huge relief because it means I can focus on my real job, which is guarding my girl.
Morgan doesn’t know, but I am continuously on the watch for anyone who might bring trouble into paradise. I get weekly updates from Chumillo, and I’ve got private eyes in Dawson Heights, too, just in case anyone tries to be
clever.
Don Valentine is hanging onto power by the skin of his teeth. His greed cost him dearly, and he’s still paying. His men can’t forgive him for favouring a moneymaker over their loyal service, and because his disastrous management also lost them Templado, his reputation has tanked.
I was telling Arturo only last week at dinner that I was surprised Don Valentine was still among the living. “I thought he’d be six feet under by now,” I said. “He’s got amazing survival skills.”
“He’s rebuilding links with the Sinaloa,” Arturo sighed. “He knows where all the bodies are buried, and so he’s needed to mend fences.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, but the second he fixes that relationship, his own men will take him out.”
“Morgan reckons her mate Poncho will take over eventually.”
“She’s probably right,” Arturo conceded, adding, “I hear Neto finally got his.”
“Yes, he was caught attacking Poncho’s cousin.”
Neto had been protected by Don Valentine. But when he’d tried his tricks on a Gulf affiliated girl in Barnyard, even the cartel boss hadn’t been able to prevent his slaughter.
Arturo smiled. “From all accounts, the chemist went screaming.”
Although it hadn’t been my hand that had killed him, a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. “It was no more than he deserved.”
“And Cortez has moved up north.”
My PI had filled me in on that venture already. “Yes, he applied to the Bianchis in Washington and the Rosterovs in Seattle. They turned him down, so he ended up working construction in some hick town in North Dakota.”
Arturo pulled a face. “That’s still too good for him.”
“As long as he stays away from here, he can do whatever he likes.”
I didn’t mean it; I still wanted to kill him. Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be. Morgan is convinced I’ve been redeemed. I pretend to go along with it, but in my heart I know she’s wrong.
I was a good man once, but there’s just no getting past the truth. I began by fighting monsters but in the process, I became one myself. There’s no going back. The darkness still lies inside me. Nourished by a lake of blood, and a universe of screams, it will always be there, black and brooding and evil.
“Everything good with you, Rip?” Arturo asked quietly.
He’s an unusual man, Arturo Vazquez. Those dark eyes see straight into me, discerning what Morgan is blind to. The cartel leader knows that I am unchanged, that the horror deep within is leashed only by my love for my girl.
But we never talk about it, and at his dinners, we aim to have a good time. “Absolutely,” I assured him.
“You know, one word from you, and I will have that capullo taken care of,” Arturo murmured. “I’m with you on this one; I think Morgan was too generous.”
“I made a promise.”
Arturo picked up the wine bottle and topped us both up. “In that case, the lucky fuck lives,” he announced. Then, gazing over at the table where Solitaire and Morgan were talking and laughing, he grinned. “We’re a pair of lucky devils, aren’t we, Rip?”
And I guess that’s what it is in a nutshell. I am a devil, I know it, but thanks to Morgan, the darkness inside me is buried deep and it’s chained. That monster of vengeance is silent because I have love in my life again.
“Yum, cocktails!” Morgan is back, her hair damp from the shower, and wearing a dress that matches the lemons ripening in the trees. The yellow brings out the gold flecks in her eyes. She’s all sunshine, my girl. A gift straight from heaven. “What did you do today, Rip?”
“I was counting my blessings.”
That makes her smile and snuggle into my side. “We are lucky, aren’t we?”
So we sit, sipping our drinks and watching the river drift by.
“Chloe called,” Morgan murmurs. “She’s throwing a surprise birthday lunch for Solitaire on Sunday.”
“Eye of newt and toe of frog?” That gets me an elbow in the side. “Ouch!”
“Chloe says you’re to come half an hour early because she wants your opinion on a new marinade,” Morgan smiles.
Surprising, right? I’ve always liked Arturo and Chumillo, and I’ve become very fond of cheeky little Chloe, and there isn’t a soul who couldn’t like warm, generous Nats. Yes, I’m actually making friends.
Of course, I still rub the straight arrows like Solitaire, Kyle, and Quique the wrong way, but we get along. It’s an effect of all that happy living, I think. We go to parties regularly, and I find I’m enjoying myself. “I’ll make strawberry cheesecakes and mango pudding.”
“Awesome! Kyle’s going to let me try out his new Ducati.”
Now we’re out of the business side of the cartel, Morgan’s comfortable and happy too. I’ve no doubt that while I’m hanging out with Chloe in the kitchen on Sunday, Morgan and Kyle will be in his garage, talking shop.
As you can see, we’ve made it. We live in our own little paradise, each day a warm, sun-filled idyll. It’s a simple life, filled with peace, laughter, and love. It’s much more than I deserve, I know. I’m truly blessed.
“Rip?” Morgan is looking at me over the rim of her glass, eyes full of mischief. “I can’t remember: who won the last game?”
“Minx! You know quite well it was you.”
She’s giggling. “In that case, it’s my turn to choose.”
At that, I’m solid. “Yes, it is.”
The eyes are flashing with want. “I want to play,” she sighs.
At that, I pick up my glass. “Well, my love, I might have an idea that will amuse you.”
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Have you read all the AJ Adams novels?
The Bonus, Zeta Cartel series #1
Songbird, Zeta Cartel series #2
Dirty Dealings, Zeta Cartel series #3
Deliverance
The Degas Girl
Helpless, Belial Disciples MC series #1
Beast, Prydain series #1
The Beast and the Sibyl, Prydain series #2
Fletcher, Prydain series #3
I used to write as Storm Chase.
Wildcat in Moscow
Murder in Moscow
Blackmail Bride: An Erotic Romance in Scotland
Pandora
Lost Weekend: An Erotic Romance in Wales
The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev
The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia
Chocolate: An Erotic Romance in Siberia
Sold! An Erotic Romance in the Sudan
I also write sweet contemporary romance as Ellen Whyte.
His Competent Woman - A BWW-Billionaire Romance
His Laughing Girl - A BWW-Billionaire Romance
That’s it! Thanks again for reading this - and tell a friend, okay? See you soon, hugs, AJ
ENDS
