Fistful of Benjamins (11 page)

“Please. Please don't kill me,” I begged through a waterfall of tears as I curled my body into a fetal position. With renewed spirit to see my son, I begged and pleaded for my life. I told them I wasn't a snitch and that I had no idea what Eduardo had done. I got nothing in response. There was a lot of Spanish being spoken, but I could only understand a fraction of it; so much for listening to my mother when she tried speaking Spanish to me all of my life.

“I promise I didn't speak to any DEA agents or the police. Please tell Luca that it wasn't me,” I cried some more, pleading with the men that were left there to guard me. None of the remaining men acted like they could hear me. In my assessment, this was it. I was staring down a true death sentence. I immediately began praying. If my mother, a devout Catholic, had taught me nothing else, she had definitely taught me how to pray.

“Hail Mary, full of grace . . .” I mumbled, closing my eyes and preparing for my impending death. As soon as I closed my eyes, I was thrust backward in my mind, reviewing how I'd ever let the gorgeous, smooth-talking Eduardo Santos get my gullible ass into this mess.

Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three shots caused my eyes to pop back open. Suddenly, Eduardo's cries abruptly stopped. My entire body went limp. I closed my eyes back because I knew then that Eduardo was dead. I heard footsteps coming toward me and I continued to pray harder. I was next. Finally, the footsteps stopped. Without opening my eyes, I could tell someone was standing over me. There was more Spanish being exchanged. Next, I felt hands on me. “Hail Mary, full of grace . . . Hail Mary, full of grace . . .” I chanted as I was brought into a sitting position.

“So you're Gabriella,” I heard a voice say. I slowly opened my eyes to come face-to-face with Luca. He was not a bad-looking older man. His skin had an orange glow like he'd spent most of his recent days lying out on a yacht, soaking up the sun.

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to get my voice to go any louder than that.

“You were doing a great job with my products, but I guess these guys got greedy, eh?” Luca said. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. I'd always thought that the demand to increase the packages had come from Luca. I started to breathe hard as he continued.

“I would've never put an honest, working woman like you in that kind of risk with the feds. Lance and Eduardo got greedy. They put all of the risk on you and it backfired on them. I know what you did when those DEA agents tried to force you to talk. I know you refused—I got the word from those on my payroll,” Luca said sincerely. I let out a long, gasping sob. My body rocked.

“Lance and Eduardo weren't so loyal. They were both ready to make a deal that would've exposed me and would've put you away for life,” he continued. I could not stop crying.

“I never turn my back on those who are loyal to me. About the beating . . . my men didn't know this information I am telling you now until I got here, so I will see to it that you get the proper medical care. Your case . . . it is done. You don't have to show back up to the courts. I have taken care of that. Now, I will need to take care of you and your family. Your son, your mother; they are awaiting your arrival at my house on the beach. You will stay there for three days, but after that, you will use the tickets I have purchased and you will take your family and move to Puerto Rico. I have left more than what you've made . . . a sufficient amount for you to live,” he told me. I looked up at him with tears rolling down my face.

“But why? Why are you doing all of this for me? It was my fault that the feds followed me,” I replied, thinking that what he was telling me was too good to be true.

“No . . . it was Eduardo's fault. It was Lance's fault. They were the ones who caused it. You were just doing what you were asked to do like a loyal worker would. I recognize that,” he said. “Gabriella . . . don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I am usually not this kind,” Luca said. With that, he stood up. He spoke to his men in Spanish. I was helped up and practically carried to another room. I was wrapped up in a blanket and carried to a van. Fear still gripped me around the throat, but for some reason, I didn't believe I was going to be killed.

 

I was left at the emergency room at the hospital. I was admitted and treated for a broken nose, three fractured ribs, and two missing teeth. The injuries to my head were all surface, no skull fractures.

After my second day in the hospital, I was in and out of sleep from the pain meds when I heard a light tapping on the door. I rolled my head toward the sound with my eyes halfway open. When I saw who was at the door, no drug could've kept me asleep and no pain could've kept me from jumping out of the bed. I jumped up, pain and all, and raced toward them. It was my mother and my son. Andrew jumped into my arms and almost knocked me backward. I was still too weak to move another inch. My mother immediately grabbed me into a tight embrace. We all stood there, hugging for what seemed like an eternity. I would not let them go at that moment or ever. I had never been that happy and relieved in all of my life. I can now move forward and go back to living a normal life. Fuck the money, expensive cars, shoes, clothes and the sheisty niggas that come along with it! It's about family. Thank God I got another chance at life.

 

C
artel Princess Cataleyna Rosales stands smiling like a glittering Spanish rose at the top of her father's spiral staircase while a sea of Mexican drug lords and chieftains applauds her grand entrance to her twenty-first birthday party. She takes a breath and then descends the staircase in a red-beaded Givenchy gown with a grace she'd inherited from her mother. Diamonds and Tahitian pearls adorn the sides of her hair while the back hangs iron-straight past her shoulders.

A pack of gold-digging she-wolves surrounds the young Afro-Latina, beaming jealous smiles. Cataleyna pays them no mind. Everyone knows that there's no
real
love in the cartel. They're latched onto her to gain political and personal favors from her father.

Vicente Rosales steps forward at the base of the staircase, his eyes wet and glowing with love. “Ah. I wish your mother had lived to see this day. She would be so proud.” He leans forward and brushes a kiss against her dimpled cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

“Gracias, Papa.” She plasters on a bright smile and is probably praying that he can't read her traitorous thoughts.

Tonight is the night. She's officially a player in a dangerous game, but can she outmaneuver the master—her father? The stakes have never been higher.

“I have something for you, Bella.”

She stiffens at the use of her mother's name—something that has become a habit in the three years since her death—just like him keeping her caged in this gilded Caribbean estate. He claims he's protecting her from his enemies, a job he failed to do for her mother. In truth, he's smothering her and preventing her from finding a life and love on her own.

Vicente turns toward me. I'm caught slipping'.

“Julian,” he hisses.

I jump, shame-faced that I've been caught gawking at the boss's daughter. To my relief, Vicente laughs. “See, Bella. You've even turned Julian's head tonight.”

Cat blushes.

I hand over a burgundy velvet jewelry box.

“Aww. Here we go.” Vicente faces his daughter again and pops it open.

The crowd leans in and gasps.

Cataleyna's face lights up as she recognizes the glittering fourteen-million-dollar Heart of the Kingdom ruby necklace.

“You like it,” her father declares, puffing out his chest.

“But how did you . . . ?”

“Come now. You know by now that there's nothing I can't do for my only daughter.” Gently, he lifts the necklace out of the box, walks behind Cat, and drapes the jewel around her neck.

“Lift your hair,” he orders.

She obeys, sweeping up her long tresses and then looks up at me—her secret lover.

I smile back—briefly. We don't want any calculating eyes discerning the truth. It isn't safe to show the slightest hint that there's something between us—not if I want to keep on living. I'm not going to lie. Cataleyna means the world to me. Not only is she beautiful, but also kind, sensitive and intelligent— all the things that I wish for my future baby girl to be. At least I hope it's a girl. My eyes drop to her still flat tummy. Cat shared the good news yesterday. She's pregnant.

Cat awakened something in me from the first moment we met. She seduced me, I fought it. At least that's the lie I tell myself. The truth is probably more like I seduced her—despite the dangers—despite my being seven years her senior—despite fucking common damn sense.

We're like moths to a flame and it's a matter of time before we're burned—unless we play the game and plot our escape—break free from her father's long reach. We're not sure how far that is, but love demands that we find out.

“There we go,” Vicente announces, grinning. “Turn around and let me take a good look at you.”

Cat releases her hair and faces her father.

One look and his eyes mist again. “Isn't she perfect?”

The two-hundred-plus crowd unleashes thunderous applause and cheers. In the next second, she's ushered away by a gaggle of women, gushing about her beauty and how lucky she is to have a father who adores her so much.

I watch intently as the women pull her away.

Our eyes periodically lock across the room while she does her thing and mills around. After an hour of this, a sudden hush falls over the crowd.

I tear my attention away and spot Carlos and Tomas Vazquez entering the mansion with a small entourage. “What the fuck?” I reach for my Glock.

The other men in the detail go for their weapons as well.

Vicente restrains my hand and then gives everyone else a stand down signal. “It's all right. I invited them.”

There's no fucking way that I heard that shit right. Rosales and the Vazquez brothers have been beefing for supremacy for the past decade. Only the Sinaloa and Zeta cartels have stacked more bodies in Mexico's never-ending drug wars. The Vazquez brother's reign of terror colors outside the line of drugs and their reach goes deep into the heart of the Mexican police and military.

I'm still staring at Vicente in disbelief when he turns around and greets his former enemies with open arms and a big smile.

“Welcome,” Vicente greets before kissing Carlos on both cheeks and embracing him. “I'm glad that you could join us for the festivities.”

“We wouldn't have missed it for the world,” Carlos says, smiling.

The Vazquez brothers are rich, powerful, and even handsome men. Their power radiates throughout the room and an undeniable tension thickens the air. I don't know what Vicente is up to, but this move signals weakness.

“So where is the birthday girl?” Carlos asks, lifting his head to search among the crowd. “I brought her a gift.”

“Did you, now?” Vicente asks.

“Well, one doesn't show up to a birthday party without a gift,” Carlos laughs. “My mother did teach me
some
manners.”

“Of course.” Vicente turns towards me. My hand is still on my weapon. He gives a disapproving shake of his head and I remove my hand from the butt of my gun. “Bring Bella here. I'd like for her to meet some of her distinguished guests.”

“Cataleyna,” I correct.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Yes. That's what I meant. Just bring her to my study.” Vicente faces the Vazquezes. “Care to join me for a brandy while we discuss business?”

“Absolutely,” Carlos answers.

The men migrate behind the solid oak doors of Vicente's study.

I make a beeline to Cataleyna and announce, “Your father would like to see you.”

Cat drains her champagne glass, deposits it on a waiter's passing tray, and then makes her excuses. “Duty calls, ladies. I'll be back.”

I flash her a smile and then offer her my arm.

“I can't wait for this whole charade to be over and we can leave this place,” she grumbles.

“Shhh.” My eyes dart around, making sure her words aren't overheard.

“I'm serious, Julian. Once we're gone I don't ever want to look back.”

I keep walking.

“You haven't changed your mind, have you?”

“Not now, Cat.”

She stops on a dime. “Answer my question.”

I round on her. “What are you doing? Are you trying to make a scene?”

“I'm trying to get to the truth. Have you changed your mind?”

“Calm down.” I swipe another passing champagne flute.

“Drink this,” I order while smiling to inquiring minds.

“I don't want another damn drink,” she spits, but accepts the glass anyway. “Answer my question.”

I like her spitfire attitude, but not right now. Our gazes lock. “Of course I haven't changed my mind. I've been planning this night for months. I can't believe that you're even asking.”

Relief floods Cataleyna's eyes to the point that she looks ready to weep.

My fear triples. If she can't keep her emotions under control, we can't survive this game.

“Cataleyna, you've got to pull it together.”

“You're right. Sorry.” She downs her champagne. “I'm fine now. Promise.”

I give her more assurances. “Everything is arranged. By this time tomorrow we'll be on our own private island as Mr. and Mrs. Arias.”

She beams at me. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“About half as happy as it makes me.” I wink and then offer my arm again. “Now let's go. Your father is waiting.”

Cat's smile melts as she links her arm back through mine. “Any idea what he wants?”

“He wants you to meet his new business partner.”

“Business partner? Carlos Vazquez? What the hell is that all about and why didn't you talk him out of it?”

“No clue. I was left in the dark about this one.” That bothers me, but I can't tell her that.

We arrive at the door to the study and Cataleyna sucks in a deep breath.

“Ready?” I ask.

She releases my arm. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

I open the door.

“Aww. Here she is now,” Vicente declares, spinning on his heel with his customary bourbon and cigar in hand.

“Hi, Daddy. You wanted to see me?” she asks innocently.

“Yes.” He walks over to her and then escorts her to his guest. “I'd like for you to meet my new business partners. Carlos and Tomas Vazquez, my daughter and birthday girl, Cataleyna Rosales. Cataleyna, Carlos and Tomas Vazquez.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says, offering her hand.

Carlos steps forward, accepts her delicate hand and brings it to his lips. “I assure you that the pleasure is all mine.” His gaze devours her with open lust.

My blood morphs into volcanic lava as my hand inches toward my weapon. I glance at Vicente. Why is he tolerating this open disrespect and grinning like a fucking idiot?

Cataleyna holds onto her smile like a seasoned actress and it restores my trust in her to continue our deception.

When I think that I'm going to have to surgically remove the man's lips from Cat's hand, Carlos lifts his head.

“I brought you a gift.”

“A gift?”

“For your birthday.” He snaps his fingers and his brother, Tomas, steps forward with another velvet box.

Cat looks to her father but he remains mute.
Something is up.

“It's a little trinket on your special day.” Carlos opens the box and reveals a jaw-dropping diamond bracelet that NASA can see from outer space.

Cataleyna gasps.

“You like it,” Carlos says, pleased. “I'm glad.”

She shakes her head. “It's lovely but . . .”

“Ah. Ah. Ah. No buts. A beautiful woman should always be draped in diamonds.”

She hesitates.

“Please don't insult me by saying that you won't accept my gift of friendship.”

“I, uh—” She looks at her father again and then over at me.

Carlos follows her gaze and then locks onto me, reading me like an open book.

“I wouldn't dare dream of insulting you,” Cat says, pulling his attention away from me. “Thank you. I'll treasure it always.”

“Nothing would please me more.” He flashes her a tight smile before slicing me with an evil look.

An awkward silence settles in the room.

“I should get back to my guests. I don't want anyone thinking that I'm a rude hostess.” Gently, Cataleyna removes her hand from his and backs away.

“I'll catch up with you later, Bella,” he father says, pressing a kiss against her cheek and then closes the door behind her.

“Lovely girl you have there,” Carlos says, toking on his cigar. “She has a certain glow about her.”

“Thank you.” Vicente downs the rest of his brandy and then strolls back to the bar. “Now about our deal . . .”

“How old did you say she was again—twenty-one? It's got to be a full time job beating the men back.” Carlos's gaze cuts to me again. “I know that I'd have a hard time concentrating with a beautiful temptation like that walking around.”

My temper snaps and I charge forward. Fuck the gun. I want to bone crush this
puta
old-school style.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Vicente shouts.

Tomas intercedes, shoving me back, but I'm on ten and I take a fucking swing. He ducks and delivers an uppercut with a fist made out of steel.

“Ooof!” Doubled over, I struggle to draw in air, but the effort sets my lungs on fire.

“Enough!” Vicente thunders.

Carlos cackles triumphantly behind his brother.

The shit gets under my skin so bad that it renews my anger and I come back up with an uppercut of my own that connects solidly underneath Tomas's chin and lifts his ass off his feet. I waste no time charging Carlos but this slick muthafucka whips out his piece and stops me dead in my tracks.

Luckily Vicente has my back and he whips his shit out too. “
Ah. Ah. Ah
. It's not that kind of fucking party.”

Rosales's cavalry bursts through the door, guns raised.

Carlos glances at Vicente and then back at me while his brother peels himself off the floor. “I thought that we were invited here to talk business?”

“You were. But all talk about my fucking daughter is off the table. You got it?”

The tension could choke a horse.

“Got it?” Vicente asks again.

Carlos lowers his gun, but he gives me a look that tells me that this shit isn't over. Not by a long shot. “Yeah. I got it. My apologies. I didn't mean to offend.”