Blood Money (Lone Star Mobster Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

“And who do you work for?”

  “I have some very powerful clients south of the border. Every so often, they get into trouble with American authorities, and they pay me well to manage those cases.”

  “You mean make them go away.” Byron had a passel of lawyers who did the same thing for the Lone Star Mafia.

  “Yes, if you want to be specific.”

  Vick put it all together from his south of the border comment.

  “You’re a narco lawyer.” She’d heard the term before—lawyers who specialized in keeping the drug cartels out of trouble.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Until recently, the outfit had an agreement with a heroin cartel. Cotton Krugg had brokered the deal with the Tres Erre cartel. They were nasty blood-soaked buttheads out of Mexico. Once, after a heroin shipment had gone missing, Byron had sent down a bribe with an employee and a promise to find the missing drugs. The Tres Erre had sent back chunks of the mobster, along with the cash.

  And when Krugg had gone missing, Byron had extricated the mafia from the situation.

  Vick and the rest of the crew had been grateful. Personally, she doubted Krugg was still alive, but Vick had never liked the man much, to begin with, so she hadn’t given it much thought.

  Cartels were full of treacherous men, even more deadly than the outfit. They routinely staged coups, stepping into positions of power, only to be stabbed in the back. They murdered rival cartel members, border agents, and citizens who tried to resist their tactics. The outfit wasn’t full of choir boys either, but they had standards.

  “I never knew.”

  “You aren’t the only one who can cover their tracks.”

  Funny, she had more in common with him than she’d thought. Although Simon used legal means to help bad people, while she used tech skills.

  Not that it mattered one bit.

  “Wanna know a secret?”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a high-profile client right now. Juan Rodriguez was arrested in Waco by the feds. It’s public knowledge, so I ain’t compromisin’ confidentiality. I’m the lead lawyer for his trial.”

  She’d heard the name before. Rodriguez had been linked to the Centla cartel in southeastern Mexico. The case was a big deal in Texas because he hadn’t been extradited. Instead, he’d been charged with the murder of an American citizen. Rodriguez had allegedly gunned a man down outside his home. Vick bet the feds were trying to push him into testifying against the cartel in exchange for a lighter sentence.

  “His case is goin’ well, and Rodriguez owes me a favor or two.”

  “That’s nice. Well, it’s late.” Vick stood, ready to go back inside and start the rest of her life.

  This situation had been the last straw. Vick would never ask for Simon’s financial assistance again. And she wouldn’t be putting herself in harm’s way to save Jack. If he really wanted to be rescued, Vick would be there to help, but she wouldn’t push him anymore.

  Now, if she could just sit down and have the conversation with Jack. Even thinking about it, made her queasy, but Vick had to make herself clear.

  “I don’t think you understand me.” He blocked her path. “Have you heard Rodriguez’s nickname?”

  “No.”

  “The Angel.”

  “Angel, huh?” Didn’t most cartel guys have nicknames like Death and the Butcher?

  “Yeah, he takes people to meet their maker.”

  “Oh.” Did he just threaten me? Her legs wobbled. “I see.”

  “Do you? Then sit down because I didn’t say you could leave.”

  Vick gasped. She shouldn’t have come out here.

  “Whoa, let’s take this down a couple notches.”

  “Veronica might not exist, but I’m captivated by you.” He took a step closer. “What a little minx you are, hidin’ yourself from me all these years. I gotta feelin’ I’ve only begun to explore your depths.” He cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her.

  “Stop it.” Vick sprang away from him, dashing to the door, but Simon yanked her closer.

  “Ow. Let go of me.”

  “Don’t play innocent.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re much more than a good girl seekin’ a thrill as an escort. I believe we’re an even better match for each other.”

  You’ve gotta be friggin’ kiddin’ me. Somehow, I’ve made the situation worse. This can’t be happening.

  She’d assumed he’d be hurt or angry. Vick expected Simon to cuss her out and stalk off. But no, Simon wanted her even more.

  “Simon, I’m not some kind of criminal mastermind or whatever femme fatale kind of fantasy you’ve got goin’ on.”

  “Keep on tellin’ yourself that, Vick. If you’d wanted a normal life, you would have one, and I totally understand. Ordinary never appealed to me either. I wanted somethin’ more—excitement, conspiracies, and oh, yeah, gobs of cash.” His eyes burned with an unholy fire.

  And then she understood. Simon was an adrenaline junkie. He probably enjoyed hearing about his client’s bloody exploits. And running around with an escort had just been another sort of adventure. Now, he’d discovered her mobster ties, and she’d become even more exhilarating in his eyes.

  But what if Simon was right about her? Vick loved the fringe benefits of her business. The outfit paid her well, and she’d nearly taken care of her student loan. Dix had given her a sweet deal on her townhome, too.

  And yeah, she might have an ethical qualm or two to deal with along the way, but it’d never stopped her. Even the freaking FBI had given her an off ramp, and she hadn’t considered taking it.

  Stop it. Simon’s messin’ with me, confusin’ me, tryin’ to lure me back into his bed.

  “I don’t do anythin’ so terrible.”

  “Me, neither.” Simon winked. “We both facilitate the criminal activity of others, but we don’t get overly involved.”

  Ugh. And I’m delusional, too. Okay, enough of this horse hooey. Time for a Come to Jesus conversation. Belle would call it a mental health intervention, only with more sass.

  “Look, I’ve tried to be nice because you helped me out of a tight spot, but we’re done. Perhaps, I haven’t been clear. We’re over—completely, one hundred percent finished. Complete. We’ve reached the end, and I’m fresh out of synonyms.” Vick said the words slowly, as though explaining the situation to a very stupid toddler. “This isn’t about more money or playin’ hard to get. I don’t want you anymore.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Seriously? This guy is crazy pants.

  She smoothed a hand over her pocket. Please don’t make me do this.

  “Don’t be so hasty. You’re a part of my world, which means I don’t have to be so tame.”

  “Meaning?” He was speaking in eerie riddles, which was never a good sign.

  “You can’t run to the feds and rat me out without exposin’ your own criminal activity. I already sent your biker boys packin’. The Lone Star Mafia don’t like added attention, so you can’t tell anybody. See? You don’t have any recourse, but to go along with my plan.” He smirked. “And I’ll still pay you handsomely for your time because I’m a generous man.”

  She gulped. Everything he’d said was true. Calling in the bikers had been her last good option.

  “Simon... please…”

  He ignored her. “Don’t you see?” He stepped closer. “I can be myself around you. I won’t have to hide who I really am, and neither will you. Stop bein’ so mulish and give in.”

  Vick was sick of being pushed around and threatened.

  “Never. Is it sinkin’ in? We’re over.”

  “I’m gonna punish you for that you later.” But his eyes were glazed. Simon was turned on by her backbone.

  “You need to leave now.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Victoria. Have you learned nothin’ about me over the years? Nobody tells me what I can and cannot do. And I always get what I want.” His voice dipped. “Who I want. I ca
n’t wait to see who you really are, underneath all those white lies.”

  “Trust me, you don’t wanna find out.” Vick withdrew the gun. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  He laughed, eyes dancing. “You won’t shoot me. You don’t got it in you, girl.”

  Simon didn’t even look concerned.

  Could this get any more screwed up? No, don’t tempt fate by even askin’. If Vick were the type of girl who swore, she’d be spitting out a few cuss words right now.

  “Sure about that? You’ve made me pretty darn desperate.”

  “Have I? You don’t seem so distressed to me. In fact, I’ve never seen you look more alive.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  The gun trembled in her hand as she lifted it. Vick knew with utter certainty, she couldn’t pull the trigger. She could never take someone’s life, even Simon’s.

  “I dare you.” Simon held his arms out, making himself an even bigger target.

  And Vick lowered the barrel.

  He smirked. “I knew it. Hand me the piece, and let’s go inside.” Simon reached for it.

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ve had enough sass. After I give you one hell of a spankin’, I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you’re bow-legged. Then we’ll come to sort of an arrangement. See? Everybody wins.”

  Vick grimaced, picturing his possessive hands, running all over her. Touching her. Claiming her.

  No. Never again.

  “You’re right, Simon, I’d never shoot you, but I don’t feel the same way about your tires.”

  Vick shot at the right front tire. The bullet hit the rim and ricocheted off. Simon flung himself down on the porch. She took another shot and hit the rubber this time, the escaping air made a hissing sound.

  Vick scrambled down the steps and into her SUV. She started it up and roared out of the driveway as Simon chased after her.

  “This isn’t over, Victoria!”

  Heart pounding, she floored it, screeching down the street.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ugh. I look uglier than a mud fence.

  The next morning, Vick examined her features in the full-length mirror on the hotel room wall, and the sight wasn’t pretty. She still wore a pair of pajama pants, a cami, and a hoodie from last night. No shoes, either, thanks to her hasty getaway. Luckily, she had some emergency money tucked away in the glove compartment.

  Vick hadn’t stopped driving until she’d reached Hell, Texas. She got a room at Hades, and barricaded her door with a chest of drawers, and then tried to get a little shuteye.

  Late last night, she’d texted Justice, telling him they’d have to meet at the diner attached to the hotel since she’d had to run away. He’d reluctantly agreed to the proposal.

  Before she left the room, Vick took a deep breath. Under different circumstances, being seen in public would be too humiliating to bear. Well, she’d just pretend she was in college once more. Back then she’d gone to class in whatever she fell asleep in and didn’t give it a second thought.

  The Four Horsemen owned several businesses, all with a hellacious theme. Hades was a quiet, unassuming one-floor, red brick building with individual entrances and an attached diner for easy access to food. A winding creek streamed through the town, every now and then it gave off the strong scent of sulfur, which is how Hell got its godforsaken name.

  Walking into Hades was like stepping into the 1950s. An antique jukebox stood on one end of the room, playing Peggy Sue by Buddy Holly. It had a black and white checkered floor with steel countertops, red booths, and steel stools with red vinyl tops.

  Evidently, Ace and Justice were late. She didn’t see either of them around, just a few townies and other bikers, sporting Four Horsemen leather vests.

  A stock pot bubbled on a massive steel stove, visible through a window into the kitchen, and it smelled divine. Then again, she was ravenous.

  A man in a pair of black leather pants and a muscle shirt printed with the words Think on Your Sins stood chopping onions. She recognized him on sight—Voodoo, another of the bikers. From the info she’d gathered, Vick knew he ran Hades.

  He nodded to her. She placed him a couple inches over six feet tall with mocha skin and unusual silvery eyes. His dark hair was twisted into short dreadlocks and came down below his ears. When he turned, she could see a skeleton tattoo on his back, peeking out from behind his shirt. The images were inked in white and probably mirrored the bones beneath his skin.

  Voodoo smirked at her outfit. “Nice jammies. We got a no shirt, no, shoes, no service policy.”

  Aw, man. She wiggled her bare toes.

  “Sorry, I had to leave in a hurry last night.”

  Voodoo peered at her with a troubling intensity. “But I’ll let it slide just this once. What’s your name?”

  “Vick.”

  “You waitin’ on Justice and Ace?”

  She hesitated a moment, unsure if she should answer.

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes. They were actin’ all squirrely this mornin’.”

  How’d he get so perceptive?

  “I didn’t say anythin’.” Vick took a seat at the counter.

  “Didn’t have to. They should be here any second.”

  His accent was a mixture—a trace of French, combined with a bit of Southern, and maybe a hint of Spanish. From her snooping, she knew he’d left New Orleans just after Katrina hit and settled in Texas.

  “Um, thanks.”

  Voodoo studied her. “What you doin’ with those boys anyway?”

  No use in denying it any longer. In a few minutes, he’d see them hanging out together. So much for keeping this operation on the down low.

  “Handlin’ a private matter.”

  His lips curved. “Ah, you need some vigilante justice then.”

  Whoa. At least he hadn’t guessed who she worked for. Yet.

  Being from New Orleans and all and with a road name like Voodoo, maybe he practiced the dark arts or some such. And the shock must’ve shown on her face because he chuckled.

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely. Bonne chance, mon choux.”

  “Er, thanks.” Vick didn’t understand a word of what he’d said and vowed to Google it when she got home. She’d taken Spanish in school, not French.

  “What can I get you?’

  “A cup of coffee, please.” He poured her a mugful and took off to help another customer.

  After she’d taken a few sips, the door swung open behind her. Ace and Justice swaggered in, each taking a stool on either side of hers.

  “What the fuck happened last night?” Justice asked without preamble. It was clear they didn’t want her here.

  “Simon showed up at my place. After y’all tried to give him a lesson in manners, he had a private investigator take a closer look at me.” She’d covered her tracks well, but no fake identity could hold up to intense scrutiny.

  Ace whistled. “What’d he say?”

  Vick sighed. “The usual. Although, he finds me even more interestin’ because of…” She trailed off as she noted Voodoo standing at the opposite end of the counter, blatantly eavesdropping. “My, er, employer.”

  “Makes sense,” Justice said. “Simon didn’t cool it when we almost legally threatened him. So, we had our own computer whiz, Coyote, take a look at the guy.”

  “He’s a narco lawyer.” Vick still hadn’t processed it all the way.

  “He told you then,” Ace said.

  “Yup, we had a round of true confessions last night.”

  “I ain’t surprised the bastard gets drug dealers outta trouble.” Justice sneered as though even the thought of Simon disgusted him. Vick could relate.

  “Simon thinks we have even more in common now.” Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “Simon’s got a point.” Ace gave her a sharp look. “You both work for assholes.”

  Vick lifted her chin. “I know what you think of me, but we’re not the same.”

 
“No, you ain’t.” Justice scowled at Ace. “Lay off, brother.” The Horsemen had a habit of calling each other brother. It was like a fraternity, with bikes.

  Vick felt like giving Justice a smooch on the cheek for defending her honor.

  “Why don’t you make me?” Ace loomed closer, and for a hot second, Vick worried she’d be in the middle of a blustering testosterone fight.

  No thanks.

  “We don’t have time for a wrestlin’ match.” Vick told them about Simon’s unwillingness to back down and the threats he’d made. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I do,” Justice said. “We’ll guard you. My guess is he’s gonna call in reinforcements to get this done.”

  That sounds bad. “Reinforcements?”

  “Probably a hired thug,” Ace said. “Since he’s workin’ with the cartel, it wouldn’t be hard to get some muscle. It’s a small job, probably one guy.”

  “Muscle? As in a hitman?” Even thinking about the prospect made Vick dizzy.

  Justice pondered it a moment. “More like a kidnapper, since he don’t want you dead. If I read this guy right, Simon’s gonna keep on applyin’ pressure until you give in.”

  “Wait, there’s more. We’ve hit another snag.” In all the scariness, Vick had forgotten about the false romance she was supposedly having.

  Ace sighed. “I ain’t surprised we gotta another soup sandwich. What happened?”

  She’d heard the term for a screw-up before.

  Vick could feel her cheeks burning. “Uh, my boss found out about breakfast at the bakery, and I had to think fast and come up with a plausible reason we were together.”

  “What lie did you tell?” Justice asked. She liked the way he went straight to the heart of the matter—no, muss, no fuss.

  “I sorta told ‘em we were datin’.” She glanced up at Justice whose face went slack.

  Ace burst out laughing.

  “It’s the only excuse I could think of, on the spot.” Vick laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Hey, wait a second. You chose him instead of me?” Ace hooked a foot around the base of her stool and dragged her around to face him.

  “Yup, I chose Justice as my fake boyfriend. What’s the big deal?”

  “Why not me?” Ace placed his hands on his hips.