Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series)

by Selene Chardou

  I wrapped my arms around Ronan’s neck and glanced directly in his eyes. “You’ve never asked me to give anything up but to be brutally honest, I’m tired, baby. This job has utterly exhausted me. I can’t do this anymore. My loyalties are . . . compromised.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The DEA is my career—that’s true. But . . . whenever there is a decision that has to be made between the club and my job, I will always choose the club, hands down. It’s not even a question I have to ask myself anymore. As far as I’m concerned, I stopped being an agent the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

  My lover glanced into my eyes before our foreheads pressed against one another and he sighed softly against me, his breath sweet and gentle on my face. “You mean to tell me a beautiful gem like you is in love with a piece of shit like me?”

  “Yeah, I am.” My hands immediately caressed his face—the roughness of his shaven flesh prickled my skin with hairs already growing back. “Word to the wise . . . you aren’t a piece of shit. You’re the man I love and would give my life to be with and hopefully you feel the same about me.”

  “You’re kiddin’ right?” He kissed my lips, his own lingering longer than necessary. “I love you with all my heart. There isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

  “I know.” I smiled at him before I breathed out loud.

  Fernando awaited me and I could no longer hide my distaste for meeting him. No matter what happened tonight, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  Fernando’s, named after its pompous and flamboyant owner, was busy as usual. Loud, hip-hop music played—Collision Course, the album Jay-Z and Linkin Park had collaborated together to produce—while people danced and grooved while I tried to maneuver my way through the crowd. The man himself was awaiting me in the private section of his club and he wasn’t the type of person one ever kept waiting longer than necessary . . . ever.

  Club members were sprinkled throughout the club—merely as backup—but the Saints stuck out like a sore thumb. The dance club was upscale and the vast majority of the crowd was well to do and Latino. White guys with beards, leather cuts and tattoos didn’t exactly blend in with the majority of the clientele.

  Two of Fernando’s men guided me to the VIP section where the man himself held court around his sycophants and whores.

  I could be accused of a lot but lack of research would never be one of them. I knew more about Fernando Navarro than I would ever want to know, including his part in the family business and the Aztecas Infierno cartel.

  Although active, he’d always somehow kept his hands clean enough the Feds could never catch him red-handed.

  Carlito craved the adrenaline and loved the feel of getting his hands dirty and being fully involved in the operations.

  However, Fernando was the brain behind the operation and entire organization. He was the Trey Lennon of the cartel—the computer expert and controlled all the finances. He knew how much money was coming in and how much went out; when drug shipments were expected and who would be in charge of them.

  The Feds knew this but we couldn’t get a hold of any of his computers. He kept them locked up tighter than Fort Knox. He was an expert at covering his tracks and none of the transactions could be directly traced to him.

  Unfortunately, few people knew my relationship to Fernando was more than a casual one. We’d had a relationship—long before I started dating Ronan. The current love of my life was also the reason why we broke up.

  No one knew this information except Eve Kerrigan perhaps. She’d never dropped any hints but the woman was known for her subtlety. It was probably the reason why she was using emotional blackmail against me in particular. If I helped the Feds bring down the cartel then she wouldn’t tell Ronan about Fernando and me.

  It was a dirty, deceitful trick but it worked.

  I would rather chew on razorblades than for Ronan to find out about my former status with Fernando.

  The “king” welcomed me into his kingdom, kicking Lola—his current main squeeze to the side. He said a few words in Spanish to her and she eyed me predatorily before she left the VIP room, her scarlet dress and black Christian Louboutins seemed out of place on a cheap-looking cholita like her.

  “Everyone, get the fuck out!” Fernando exclaimed with a strong, dominant voice.”

  Sycophants and whores alike left the room but two guards remained at their post.

  He glared at them with the most gorgeous amber-green eyes. “When I said everyone, I meant you guys too. This woman poses no threat.”

  “Jefe, we are here to protect you. If this chinga de mayate hurts one hair on your head—”

  “Believe me that won’t happen, Jorge.” He glared in the bodyguard’s direction. “Naomi and I go way back.”

  Jorge looked affronted as he lowered his gun and glared at me with resignation and anger.

  “By the way,” Fernando began in that honey-whiskey voice of his that bore not a trace of a Spanish accent, “refer to Naomi as a mayate again and I will fucking kill you where you stand. Is that understood?”

  My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the guards leave. I actually felt safer with them around than when they reluctantly left.

  I took a deep breath and focused on the main reason why I was here in the first place. It certainly wasn’t to catch up on how my former lover was getting on now that he no longer had Emilio as his protection.

  “Are you . . . frightened?” he questioned in a gentle voice. “You know I would never hurt you . . . not intentionally.”

  I glanced at Fernando and realized why I’d been attracted to him in the first place. His skin, alabaster pale without a hint of color, suited his mélange of European features. His face was a work of art. Good looking and sexy—almost effeminate—with his Roman nose, cheekbones sculpted from artwork and beautifully full pink lips.

  There was absolutely nothing about him that screamed gangster or cartel member.

  However, it wasn’t his perfect physique or his gorgeous face, which ended a relationship that had lasted almost four years. It was the lies, jealousy and constant ability to be unfaithful—on his part—that put paid to anything between him and me. He liked his women but he also liked his men too. His version of fidelity and mine weren’t exactly the same.

  Fernando believed if he fucked a man while I was deployed, he wasn’t cheating on me. I couldn’t stand his way of thinking and eventually, his poor choices—not his bisexuality—ended whatever existed between us.

  In spite all the history between us, Fernando knew a lot about me, and what made me tick. That made him a very dangerous and unsavory adversary indeed but in the end, what choice did I have?

  If it was between him and Ronan, I knew exactly whom I would choose without a doubt.

  “Did you really have to bring that gringo, mi corazón? We were intimate at one time and I would have murdered any man who even looked at you the wrong way. Do you really believe I am capable of hurting you?”

  I shook my head. “He insisted on coming.”

  My ex-lover was hardly a dim bulb and one of his manicured eyebrows arched inquisitively. “Tell me, querido . . . does your biker know about you and me?”

  I rolled my eyes out of annoyance more than anger. “My God, Nando, stop all the Spanish words of affection and seduction. We both know you’re as fake as a four-dollar bill. Mexico is as much your home country as it would be mine.”

  My ex-lover paused at this statement. He lit a cigarillo and dragged on it seductively as the smoke drifted away from his lips and towards the ceiling that pumped air conditioning through the open space.

  “Ronan has no idea about your origins then?” He chuckled to himself as if he’d made the funniest joke in the world. “Does he think you’re just a run of the mill, round the way girl, Naomi Maria De La Cruz Washington Fernandez?”

  I finally took a seat across from Fernando. “Yes, he does, and that makes everything so much easier
.”

  “For who . . . exactly—or should I say whom? Would he not want you if he knew both your parents were half-Mestizo? Two black grandmothers and two Mexican grandfathers. Your español is just as good—if not better—than mine. We’re the future of this country and yet . . . you deny who you are?”

  “Fuck off, Nando.” My Latina roots were beginning to show and I quickly wrangled control over them. “Yes, two of my grandparents happened to be Mexican. In fact, I’m more of a Mexican than you—you big phony. Parading around like you are a man of color when in fact your father was from Spain and your mother was a white bitch from Belgium. Yeah, I might not go around proclaiming my Mexican roots but at least they’re mine. I’m not running around, perpetrating to be something I’m not.”

  Fernando shrugged his shoulders apathetically. “Say what you will. I was born and raised in Mexico despite not being Mexican as you say. It is my country and the Mestizos are my people. What is ethnicity except random strains of DNA? It is what you feel in your bones and regardless whether my mother’s Belgian and my father is from the country of Spain, I identify as a Mexican. Aztecas Infierno is real. Our goal to become one of the most powerful cartels in Mexico is very much a reality. What are you going to do about it? What do you want, Naomi?”

  “You know what the Feds want, Nando. They want Aztecas Infierno shut down; they want Carlito behind bars along with your brother, Emilio. Other than that, it’s all of the information I can offer you at the moment,” I responded in a cold and calculating voice.

  He laughed out loud. Mocking, biting, and jarring to my ears.

  “And this . . . is your ‘get out of jail free’ card? You take us down and DEA lets you go? You get to ride off into the sunset with that piece of trash and what do I receive in return? A failed empire and family members who will never see the light of day? They’ve got some nerve sending you to do a man’s job.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re weak, Naomi. The DEA was stupid for taking you on in the first place. You haven’t got a clue what you’re doing, sweetheart, and we both know it.”

  I stood at that point and glared down at Fernando, my hands planted firmly on his ornate, antique desk. “You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

  He shrugged again apathetically. “Maybe I do . . . maybe I don’t but I know what I see. This assignment is too big for someone like you. I know you have superiors. Probably that Eve Kerrigan bitch put you up to this because she needs a few more pieces in her goddamn puzzle. You’re expendable, mi amado. If you die during this mission, you mean nada. No one will mourn for you except your precious Ronan . . . and me.”

  “You’re lying,” I replied without an ounce of conviction.

  “Am I?” Those amber-green eyes burned into mine with such fierce and determined intensity, I forced myself to look away. “I would mourn for you because I still love you. I still want and desire you—it’s the only reason you’re alive. If I felt nothing for you—I would have murdered you a long time ago.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do.” My eyes wandered to his while he glared back at me with heartless, ice-cold eyes.

  He was no longer thinking about me like a former lover but as a mark he could acquire information from with little effort on his part.

  “What I want you to do is find out what Eve wants.” He dragged lazily from his cigarillo. “If all she desires is my nephew then I’ll give him up—no problem. The cartel doesn’t just stop because one of our own is behind bars. Hell, Emilio is running the whole thing from ADX Florence and he’s in a secure unit. We can pay crooked guards, exchange messages—hell, they let the bastard have a computer for Christ’s sake. I sent him a MacBook Air of course. That way it’s easier for me to post shit in our Cloud account for his eyes only. The guards are so stupid, they don’t even know what’s goin’ on.”

  “And if I don’t,” I retorted boldly.

  “Los resultados no se ven muy bien, cariño.” Fernando raised concerned eyebrows before his cold, dead eyes looked into the distance. “I would have to retaliate but not in the way that would affect the Feds. However, I could punish you and . . . neither of us want that.”

  Fuck, he was right. I knew all the ways he could make me suffer and none of them would end with a fairytale ending for anyone I cared about.

  All the sudden, I felt so small in his presence—like a bug he could easily squash and not think two seconds about what he’d done.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I told you what I wanted from you—”

  “No! You told me what you wanted me to do. What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?”

  “Haven’t made up my mind yet. Mira, tonight isn’t a good night to discuss anything, all right? I wanna have some fun and live it up. We meet one week from today. Bring your biker pals if they make you feel safe. In the meantime, tell your gringo we ironed out some deals and we’ll be meeting later on in the week. That’s what he’ll report back to Eve anyway. Unless, you want him to know about our history—is that it?”

  My mind quickly calculated Ronan’s short, Irish temper and I shook my head quickly. “No, of course not. That’ll work. I can do that.”

  Fernando smiled weakly. “Well, see you in a week then.”

  I stood and one of my hands immediately grabbed his left wrist. “Please . . . if you ever loved me at, promise you won’t tell Ronan about you and me. He’s volatile and unpredictable. Even his own brothers and father can’t control him.”

  “Well, you always did have a weak spot for the possessive, alpha male. Just make sure you reel yours in if he wants to make it to his thirtieth birthday.”

  I nodded my head, rendered speechless.

  It would kill me if anything ever happened to Ronan.

  True, I could honestly say I still had feelings for Fernando but I was in love with Ronan. My problem wasn’t love but sexual attraction.

  Ronan and I had an active sex life. Who was I kidding? The man was kinky as fuck and I loved every minute I spent between the sheets, the shower and everywhere else we managed to have sex.

  Unfortunately, Fernando—not Ronan—had introduced my kinkiness to me. He was my first love and first boyfriend. Before him, I didn’t know anything about sex except the basics of course.

  Ménage a trois, double penetration, anal intercourse, sex toys, flavored lubes and the extreme kink—including BDSM—I’d been subjected to in real life and through the viewing of porn films happened while Fernando and I were together.

  I’d witnessed him fuck other men and women along with group sex and the actual filming of adult movies during the four years we’d been together. If I was an innocent virgin who knew nothing before we met, by the time I ended our relationship, I could honestly communicate what I wanted and desired sexually from my partner.

  The problem with deviating from what “society” considered normal intercourse was it was impossible to go back to the norm. I sought people out who had the same sexual proclivities I did and I got lucky.

  I never had to whore myself out.

  We knew each other—just by a casual glance.

  Ronan’s unusual sexual activities spoke to me before he even said a word to me. It was there; embedded in those gorgeous violet-blue eyes and he recognized it in me.

  The first time he took me to a club party where open sex occurred, various women were being tag-teamed by members, I didn’t even flinch. I remembered grabbing a drink, snorting a few lines of cocaine with Ronan and Kink before we found a dark corner to make out. When one of his hands slid my panties to the side while his other caressed my breast and he pressed me against the wall, I spread my legs further and allowed him to fuck me.

  It didn’t matter that anyone could have walked by and saw us even if his strong body shielded my own. We fucked like two primal beings and I remembered coming so hard, I thought I would pass out.

  Just the memory of us together—our first time—had my breath accelerated an
d my heart beating wildly in my chest.

  Fernando was poison and if I wasn’t careful, he would drag me right back to the world I’d fought my whole life to escape.

  Chapter Three

  Ronan

  Ronan knocked back another Jack Daniels, his fifth in a row. He nursed a Budweiser and looked around the fancy ass dance club.

  What the fuck was taking Naomi so long? He hated to think what that freak was talking to her about although the irony didn’t escape him.

  No, he wasn’t deviated enough to allow a man to suck his cock on the outside but when he’d served his time, a hole was a motherfuckin’ hole. Yes, he’d fucked guys—condoms were a must—and he’d allowed inmates to go down on him.

  Time inside could be lonely and with no woman nearby and no conjugal visits, he did what he had to do to pass the time until he could get the fuck out.

  Naomi knew all about it and that was the cool thing about his girl. She didn’t judge him at all. She listened when he talked about his complicated life, his fucked up temper and how he couldn’t control it sometimes.

  The doctors had diagnosed him with anger issues but it was much more serious than that. His parents and siblings liked to tease him about it but, technically, he suffered from a mild form of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder with higher than normal levels of testosterone and levels of aggression.

  Ritalin didn’t do shit for him so he never took it. In fact, he tended to indulge in anti-depressants more than he did drugs that should have made him feel normal. He swallowed Ativan and Xanax like they were candy and drank way too much but what the fuck—the life he lived was hard.

  There was a reason why most MC vice presidents weren’t as young as him. It was a stressful job; add to that he helped to run the second largest chapter in the country. Las Vegas was right behind Birch Tree in terms of power and prestige. They had a lot of members and they were responsible for everything that went on in Clark County.