Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set

by D. H. Cameron

  “We should go out and celebrate,” Marco told me.

  “Celebrate?” I asked. What could we possibly have to celebrate? Cuba had fallen, Marco was losing everything. The events of the last few weeks hung over us like a dark storm.

  “Yes, why not? Should we stay in and sulk?” he pondered.

  “No, I guess not. All right. Then we can spend the remainder of our last evening in Cuba in each other’s arms,” I told him but then asked,” Are you sad to be leaving your home, Marco?” I was concerned Marco might be hiding his true feelings.

  “This apartment? No. I have no connection to it. It is a roof over my head. Cuba, yes. It is sad to be leaving her but I hope to return someday. Soon maybe,” Marco said optimistically. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from a man such as Marco. He wasn’t giving up. He was looking to the future.

  “I will go with you wherever you go,” I told him. Marco reached over and put his hand on my knee.

  “Then wherever I go, I shall be happy. I love Cuba but she cannot compare to my love for you,” he told me.

  That day Marco offered passage to the others in the group that plotted to oppose Castro. They were all in danger now but only two would come with us. Enrico and another man I didn’t know. The others stayed, some to actively fight but others were optimistic that Castro’s reign could not last. Marco chartered a boat that only his wealth and fame allowed him to do. Boats, it seemed, were in great demand suddenly. Many Cubans were leaving for America and friendlier shores throughout the Caribbean.

  Marco and I spent the day packing what little we could bring. For me that meant almost all my meager possessions as I never acquired much in my time in Cuba. Marco packed some clothes, suits and personal items. The boat wasn’t large and very little could be taken on the journey. That evening, we dressed up and went to Manuel’s restaurant. Marco wore a tuxedo and I wore my finest dress complete with stockings even though it was warm and humid. I hoped Marco might remove them later as we made love before we must depart.

  “Marco! Nancy!” Manuel greeted us. Manuel hugged us both and offered us a table inside. He seated me and then Marco sat across the small table from me. The restaurant was empty.

  “Where is everybody, my friend?” Marco asked.

  “No one comes out any longer. They are afraid,” Manuel told us.

  “I am sorry. I am leaving,” Marco announced suddenly.

  “I knew you would be. I understand, mi amigo,” Manuel said and put his hand on Marco’s shoulder.

  “God willing, this will not last forever. Soon, Cuba will be free again,” Marco told his friend. “Enough of this, Marco announced changing the mood, “Bring us your delicious arroz con pollo so I might savor it one last time before we depart.” Manuel smiled broadly and bowed.

  “Of course. Mojitos too?” Manuel asked.

  “Please,” I answered. Manuel bowed again and left us. I reached across the table and took Marco’s hands. “This is nice. I will miss Cuba too. Several weeks ago I was eager to leave but now that I’ve seen Cuba though your eyes, I wish we could stay,” I told Marco.

  “Someday we will return,” he replied optimistically. I nodded. I hoped we could. The food was as good this time as the last and like before we couldn’t finish all Manuel brought us. He joined us after we’d eaten and talked with us. I listened mostly as the two men reminisced. It was bittersweet. I wondered if this would be the last time they would ever speak or if they might be reunited again someday. Soon, however, Marco and I had to leave. We both hugged Manuel and then as we left, he wished us good luck.

  “You too, mi amigo,” Marco told him and then we left. We had just enough time to maybe share an intimate moment, get our belongings and drive to meet the charter boat. However, we never made it to Marco’s home. As we approached the row houses in Marco’s Cadillac, we saw men waiting outside. There was no doubt why they were there. Marco took a side street before they could identify us and we drove away towards the docks. “We will buy clothes in Florida,” he said and squeezed my knee to reassure me.

  “What if we’d been home?” I asked but Marco only looked at me. His eyes told me what I suspected already. We’d have been arrested. Marco took us out of Havana, choosing side streets instead of the wide boulevards to avoid being seen. We drove in silence. Every car we passed I was sure would turn and chase us down. I had never wanted to be somewhere else as much as I did right then. When Tony threatened me, it was only I that would suffer. Now Marco would suffer too if we were caught. I couldn’t bear the thought.

  Finally, we arrived at the docks after what seemed like hours. The docks served fishermen mostly and the boat Marco had charted seemed far too big next to the small dock. It wasn’t a large boat but it dwarfed the fishing skiffs that would normally use the wooden docks. Many of the other refugees were already there and waiting including Enrico.

  “Ah, Marco. I was worried,” Enrico greeted us.

  “With good reason, my friend. Castro’s thugs were waiting for us at my home. If we wouldn’t have left to get dinner, we wouldn’t have been able to join you,” Marco explained. Enrico didn’t look surprised.

  “I have heard rumors. I am sure I am on their lists too,” Enrico told us.

  “We must leave right away,” Marco said.

  “Some of the others haven’t arrived,” Enrico told us. Marco looked at his watch. It was nearing midnight.

  “We will wait for a little longer. Take Nancy to the boat and I will wait for the stragglers and keep watch,” Marco told Enrico. I looked at Marco, taking his hand and squeezing. “We will leave as soon as they arrive,” he assured me. Enrico led me to the boat and I took a seat near the stern. It was a charter fishing boat and lacked any real comforts but it was only ninety miles or so to Florida.

  “I will go to wait with Marco,” Enrico told me. I was nervous but not for myself. I was worried about Marco and until he was on the boat and we had departed I couldn’t relax. Only a little while more.

  “Thank you,” I said but as soon as I had, Marco began shouting.

  “Salir, salir!” he yelled. Enrico went to the side and then turned to the passengers and told them to get down in Spanish. I rose and pushed my way to the rail on the opposite side from the dock. Two cars skid to a stop as Marco ran towards the boat but before he could get to the dock, men emerged from the cars and shouted for him to stop. Marco didn’t halt immediately but when the men fired their guns into the air, Marco stopped just short of the dock.

  “Marco!” I yelled as the boat’s engines roared to life. Enrico hesitated to order the boat to leave but Marco told him to go.

  “Tell Nancy that I love her,” Marco shouted. I tried to climb from the boat as it drifted away from the dock but Enrico grabbed me and held me.

  “No! Marco! Marco!” I shouted as the boat turned. The men seized Marco and more pointed rifles at the boat and yelled for the captain to stop. The captain shook his head and once he had the room, he turned the boat and threw the throttle all the way forward. The boat lurched forward and began to gain speed. The men fired on us and Enrico shouted for the passengers to get down once again as he pulled me to the deck. I struggled but he was too strong. “Marco!” I yelled.

  Soon the boat was out of range of the gunfire but when Enrico let me go I forgot about Marco for a moment. The woman I’d been siting next too was dead from bullet to the chest and lay lifeless next to me. I looked at her in horror and then back at the shore as I got to my feet. Marco was gone, only his Cadillac remained behind. I fell to my knees and began to sob. Enrico consoled me as he lifted me to my feet again.

  “We will get him back,” he assured me.

  “They will kill him. We need to go back,” I wailed.

  “We cannot,” Enrico told me. I knew he was right but right then I didn’t care. He took me into the cabin where I collapsed crying. Enrico sat next to me and held me as I sobbed. Marco was gone and there was nothing I could do to get him back. I was sure he would be tried a
nd executed like so many others and I was helpless to save him. My world was as dark as the night that swallowed the fishing charter as it sailed for Florida. The engines droned on as I wept.

  ~~~

  When we reached Florida, I sat staring into space inside the cabin of the boat. Dark thoughts filled my head. Then a United States Marine shook me from my trance. “Ma’am, are you American?” he asked. I looked up and nodded. He offered me his hand and lifted me to my feet. After a moment I realized we were in America.

  “Please, you must help me. He was taken. Can you help me?” I asked the young Marine.

  “Who was taken, ma’am?” he asked me.

  “Marco, my...the man I love. The Cubans took him. Please help me,” I pleaded. I could see the Marine took pity but there was nothing he could do.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We have no jurisdiction in Cuba. Come with me,” he said and I leaned on him as he led me from the boat and to a makeshift processing center. I had my passport with me so I was allowed to go. Enrico had his Cuban passport and was eventually allowed into America with a visa. The government was being overwhelmed with refugees and so those with solid credentials were expedited through the process. Many of the others had no passport or even identification. They would have to wait and hope to be given asylum. It was nearly dawn when Enrico took me from the processing center and checked us into a hotel.

  There, I finally slept as Enrico arranged transportation to Miami from where we had landed in the Florida Keys. When I woke I didn’t feel any better but I had control of myself again. However, as soon as I climbed from the bed, I ran to the bathroom and vomited. When I emerged, Enrico asked if I was alright.

  “I feel better. It must have been the journey,” I told him but I suspected there might be another cause of my sudden sickness.

  “I have secured a car for us. We can drive to Miami,” Enrico told me.

  “Miami? We need to go back to Cuba and get Marco!” I told him.

  “I owe Marco much. We will go to get him but we need help,” he assured me.

  “In Miami?” I asked.

  “Marco’s parents,” he said. I knew they would do whatever was necessary to save Marco but I wasn’t sure what that might be. What could they do? In any case, I was eager to do something.

  “When do we leave?” I asked.

  “Now, if you are ready,” Enrico told me.

  “I’m ready,” I told him and then asked, “What of that woman?”

  “The bullet killed her instantly. She is dead,” Enrico told me.

  “Why would they shoot at us?” I wondered as my emotions threatened to get the best of me again.

  “Castro will begin to prevent Cubans from leaving. He is already promising to seize the property of anyone that leaves so their family cannot claim it. Soon he will prevent the exodus by force,” Enrico told me. I shook my head. The whole situation was surreal. I grew up in the United States. This kind of thing didn’t happen, at least not on such a scale. I guess I took the peace and liberty I experienced here in America for granted.

  “It’s such a shame,” I lamented.

  “Yes, it is,” Enrico replied. We gathered what little we had, left the hotel and began the drive towards Miami. On one hand, I was happy to be home where I didn’t fear for my freedom or my life but on the other, Marco, the man I loved, was a prisoner in Cuba. I wouldn’t rest until he was free and with me here in America. I couldn’t.

  We drove throughout the afternoon and evening. We said little as we drove and stopped only once to get a quick meal. As we entered Miami, I asked Enrico what we might do to free Marco. I couldn’t see how it might happen. He was held by the Castro government and freeing him wouldn’t be easy. I feared it might be impossible.

  “There are still those that resist Castro and the communists. They may help us but it is risky. They will need to be convinced,” Enrico told me.

  “Money?” I asked.

  “Or arms, yes. Marco is well known and he did much for the resistance but he is but one man and the resistance will not be eager to commit men and resources to free him unless they get something in return,” Enrico explained.

  “And we get that something from Marco’s mother and father?” I asked though I was already beginning to understand the plan. I was still pained by the events of the previous evening but my emotions took a backseat to my resolve to rescue Marco.

  “Yes. I am sure they will pay any amount to see him liberated,” Enrico said. I looked forward to meeting Marco’s parents but not under these circumstances. How could I tell them their son had been arrested? How could I tell them that he loved me and I loved him back? How could I tell them all of that and more? Would they accept me? I couldn’t worry about that. Marco was the only thing that mattered. I would do anything to see him safe.

  “Will you go back to Cuba?” I asked Enrico.

  “Yes, I owe Marco that,” he told me.

  “Then I am going with you,” I said. Enrico looked at me as if to argue but once he saw the determination on my face, he simply nodded.

  “I would not stand between you and Marco,” Enrico told me and then smiled.

  “Can I ask why you owe him?” I wondered.

  “Si. I worked for Marco when I was younger. He helped me get an education and that allowed me to secure a position with the government. I worked at first in the south. My wife was a teacher. When she was killed by Castro’s brother, Raúl Castro, I joined Marco to oppose the communists,” he told me.

  “You were married to Marco’s sister?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he told me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I offered. Enrico smiled at me mournfully. I wondered why Marco had not told me but considering the situation, I understood. Things had moved fast in the past few days and there were more pressing concerns.

  “I do not want you to suffer the pain I feel every day. We will free Marco or I will die trying,” Enrico stated. He turned his head to regard me.

  “We will free him and all of us will return to America,” I assured him. I still wasn’t sure exactly how but I hoped I was right.

  ~~~

  ~13~

  It was evening when Enrico and I arrived at Marco’s parents’ house. I was nervous about meeting them and even more so telling them about the peril that had befallen their son. Thankfully, they already knew Enrico. He was their son-in-law, the husband of their murdered daughter. She was killed by the revolutionaries because she was a teacher and now their son was imprisoned and in danger of being executed because he was a capitalist. I couldn’t imagine how they might take the news.

  Alberto and Carmen Fernandez lived in an affluent section of Miami. Their home wasn’t what I would call a mansion but it was large nonetheless. Enrico told me about them as we drove there. Alberto was a jovial, easy-going man, tall and thin, like Marco, with graying hair and a thick mustache. Carmen was a strict but loving mother, generous once her trust was gained, with long dark hair and a full figure. Enrico promised to take the lead and that he would be the one to tell them of Marco’s imprisonment. I was glad for that.

  We pulled into the home’s U-shaped drive and parked near the front door. We approached the house and just as Enrico was about to ring the doorbell, the door flew open. “Enrico!” Carmen exclaimed as she opened the door.

  “Mama,” he replied as she hugged him.

  “I was so worried for you after the news,” she told him in English. Enrico had told me both Alberto and Carmen spoke English and insisted on using it since they lived in America.

  “I am well but we need to speak, mama,” Enrico said. Carmen’s hand went to her mouth but Enrico shook his head to let her know Marco was alive. She sighed and relaxed but she was still wary of the news that we were about to deliver.

  “What is it then?” she asked.

  “Let’s go inside and sit down. Alberto should hear this too,” Enrico said and offered Carmen his arm. She took it and it was evident Enrico was a part of the family. Carmen had yet to even a
cknowledge me but I tried not to let that bother me. With the situation in Cuba, she must have been worried about Marco, Enrico and probably many others. I assumed she had much on her mind. We found Alberto in the sitting room, lounging in a large leather chair. I was surprised at how much Marco resembled his father.

  “Father, Enrico is here,” Carmen announced as we entered the room.

  “Enrico! How are you, my son?” Alberto greeted Enrico as he stood to shake the man’s hand. “And who is this lovely young woman?” Alberto asked with the same charm that his son possessed.

  “Papa, mama, this is Nancy Cartwright. She is Marco’s...girlfriend,” he told them and looked at me for assurance that I was in fact his girlfriend. I suppose I was and I nodded. I felt like I was more than a girlfriend to Marco but the term worked well enough.

  “Is that so?” Carmen replied skeptically glaring at me.

  “Mother, be nice,” Alberto told his wife and she looked to her husband and smiled knowingly as if they’d played this game before. “So, where is Marco? We haven’t heard from him,” Alberto asked hopefully.

  “That is why we are here. Marco has been arrested by the communists,” Enrico told his in-laws. Carmen gasped and Alberto looked shaken, bending to gather up his glass of rum from which he drank deeply.

  “When did this happen?” Alberto asked now taking his wife’s hand in his. Enrico explained the situation, how Marco had arranged for some of the workers, Enrico and myself to leave the island. He told them of the events that led to Marco being captured and how we narrowly escaped as Marco’s captors fired on us with their guns. He told them about the woman that was killed during our escape. Finally, he told them of arriving in America and then our journey to Miami to ask for their help.

  Carmen listened, her hand cupped over her mouth. Alberto let go of her hand and slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulder and hugged her close. I fought the urge to cry as I listened to the tale. I remembered watching as Marco sacrificed himself so that I and the others might escape. I only hoped he didn’t pay for that selfless act with his life.