Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) (4 page)

“Enough!” Ronan exclaimed as he sat up. “Come here, you dirty little bitch. I’m gonna fuck you hard and rough because I know you want it.”

She smiled wickedly and glanced at him with those big doe-eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”

Oh, how he fucking loved when she called him that! Some women found it a bit distasteful but her real father was “Papa” or
 
“
Papi
” to her so calling him “Daddy” meant nothing to her. It was a term of endearment and a way of letting him know he was in control.

Naomi crawled toward him and before she could wrap her arms around his neck, Ronan grabbed his cock and entered her roughly. Not that it mattered, she was soaking wet and he slid easily to the hilt inside her body. She balanced herself on top of him before she began to ride his cock like she was at a rodeo.

Between the gyrating of her hips and the way he slid in and out of her, she’d begun to drive him crazy. He needed to really pound her at that moment. She’d gotten that gentle touch and caress she
needed
but now he really wanted to fuck her hard and rough the way he
wanted
.

Ronan flipped them over and drove into her as she moaned out loud in ecstasy. He rammed his cock in and out her as he fingered her clit with his right thumb and fucked her hard. She squeezed her kegel muscles around his length and that was his undoing. Between her juicy pussy and the feel of all that silky wetness around his cock, he came with such force, he thought he might pass out.

They lay like that, him between her splayed legs as he kissed her lips and fingered her nipples.

“My God, why can’t I see past you? When we’re together, nothin’ else exists but you and me.” Ronan smirked. “I know I sound like a bitch but babe, I gotta say you’re the one for me. I knew it the moment we met and I know it now. I couldn’t imagine bein’ with anyone else but you.”

“I know,” Naomi replied before she smiled. “It’s the same way with me. I’ve loved and lost before—don’t get me wrong—but I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else. You’re it. The one, sweetie. Don’t you fuckin’ go and break my heart the way that asshole brother of yours did to Gisela. I’m not
her
.”

“Hey, he learned from the best,” he said in a bitter voice. “No man is as good at breaking hearts as our old man. You know how much shit my mom has had to put up with through the years? It wasn’t just Eve and him havin’ Trey on the side. What about Kasper’s rich piece of ass mother or that Saint slapper he got Loire by? He’s never been able to keep it in his pants.

“If Cillian was ever untrue to Gisela, blame the person who needs to be blamed—our dad, Dizzy. Hell, look how fucked up Jaden is. He can’t even fuckin’ pick a woman. He’s gotta be greedy and hold on to some rich bitch all the while havin’ a baby with another woman and not being able to commit. Face it, I come from one fucked up, psychologically damaged family.”

She turned his face toward hers and kissed his lips ever so softly. “Yeah? And what? You think my family was the
Waltons
or some such shit? There’s no such thing as a perfect family, Ronan. I don’t expect you to be a saint—you’re human for God’s sake. I just want us to be decent and respect one another. If you happen to stray then tell me and we’ll work it out.

“You’re a fuckin’ biker, yeah? If I wanted a straight-laced husband, I should have been on the lookout for an accountant. I
chose
you—I
chose
this life. I know everything isn’t gonna be sunshine, rainbows and
My Little Pony
. I’m a fuckin’ DEA agent and I was with U.S. Air Force. You think I don’t know men?”

“Nah, I know you
know
men.”

“Good then you know if you ever stray, I won’t take it so calmly. I might crack a few ribs and you might lose a few teeth but we’ll get over it. You’ll get fixed up by the doc . . . get a few dental implants and we’ll be okay.”

Ronan laughed out loud before he kissed her mouth again. “Woman, you’re fuckin’ crazy but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“You bet your ass you wouldn’t,” she shot back as he rolled over.

Naomi stood, walked to the bathroom and closed the door. After about twenty minutes, she emerged fully dressed while he’d spent that time flat on his back, his arms tucked underneath his head as he contemplated the day ahead.

“Hurry up, slow poke. You said you wanted breakfast and I’m going downstairs to make it right now.”

She opened and shut the door behind herself, leaving him alone.

Ronan stood to his feet, strode to their walk-in closet and chose a few items from his side. Quickly, he dressed in a pair of slight baggy dark jeans and a fitted plain t-shirt with his sleeveless leather cut over it. After slipping on a pair of black, steel-toed shitkickers, he walked expeditiously down the stairs to face Hardy and his on-again/off-again lover, Talia Viaro.

Naomi busied herself in the kitchen making breakfast while Talia kept waving away everything his old lady offered to her away while she nursed a cup of hot tea flavored with lemon and honey.

Ronan sat down at the table and before he could get comfortable, Naomi placed a large mug of coffee in front of him along with scrambled eggs, homemade hash browns and several perfectly cooked sausage patties.

He dug in as she joined him at the table and sat down with a cup of coffee along with a plate of scrambled eggs, a slice of toast and a sausage patty. She claimed she was only trying to keep fit but he had a feeling DEA field officers had to maintain a certain weight and body fat ratio. She watched what she ate and drank like a hawk, hence the reasons of times he’d ever seen her out of control were few and far between.

“What’s up with you, Talia? Jitters about an upcoming concert or something else?” Naomi wondered after she sipped from her coffee.

The massively famous rock star—and lead singer of Winter’s Regret—glanced at Ronan’s old lady and shrugged in a non-committal manner. “I’m fine, seriously. Just . . . man problems . . . but we all have them, right?”

Ronan stared at Naomi who glanced back at him before she replied, “Honey, I got ninety-nine problems but believe you me—a cock ain’t one of ’em.”

Talia snickered out loud. “Consider yourself lucky then. Jaden is . . . hard to deal with under the best circumstances and right now, conditions aren’t ideal.”

“Aren’t you due to that party Trista and
Linx
are hosting this week for their Vegas housewarming?”

Talia nodded after she sipped from her tea. “Like I said, the situation isn’t good right now. Apparently, I’m to blame for everything, including his junkie girlfriend. I swear to God, if I would have known this would be my life, I would have let him overdose while we were on tour in Western Europe.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Naomi retorted knowingly. “You would have done exactly what you did do. No one ever said life was right or fair but it’s what we make of it. You don’t have to put up with Jaden’s bullshit
anymore
than you’re willing to. You have a good man right here who wants to be there for you. Maybe it’s time for you to take that choice of whether he gets to tear pieces of your heart away from you. You can always just say no.”

“I would love to but you’re aware I also have a son who links Jaden and I together.”

“Yes, I am aware of that but there is also a such thing as single motherhood,” Naomi snapped. “Do you think you’re the only woman who has ever been burdened with a dead-beat ex-spouse? You should thank your lucky stars you have Hardy by your side. Nothing is ever lost. I think you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, step up to the plate and make some decisions not only for you but for your son as well.”

Talia’s pale green eyes narrowed before she stood. “Aren’t you the fount of wisdom this morning?”

Naomi shrugged apathetic shoulders. “I try to be every now and then.”

“Listen, I gotta go. See you later.” Talia kissed Hardy before she quickly left, slamming the front door behind her.

The Vegas Prez glared at Ronan. “Christ, brother, you can’t get your old lady to shut the fuck up for five minutes?”

“The old lady is right here and no, I’m not gonna placate your
little
girlfriend because she’s just as indecisive as that shit-for-brains rock star she’s on again-off again with. Jesus, how can you sit by and stand it?” Naomi replied flippantly.

“I can’t force her to make up her mind,” Hardy responded cryptically.

Ronan glanced at Naomi. “Ouch, Jaden happens to be my brother you know.”

“So. He still has shit for brains. There’s absolutely no contest between Faith and Talia yet he’s making a perfectly easy decision harder than it has to be simply ’cause he doesn’t
want
to choose. It makes him feel like a man to have these two gorgeous women fighting over him when at the end of the day, he’s not worth it at all.”

Hardy’s crystal blue eyes hardened. “And you were worried about this tough as nails bitch meeting Fernando tonight? May I ask
why
exactly? Looks like she can handle herself just fine.”

Ronan couldn’t help but smirk as he slid an arm around Naomi’s waist and squeezed softly. “Yep, she’s definitely my girl.”

Chapter Two

Naomi

I
studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror and straightened the barely there, midnight blue cocktail dress I wore. Paired with black Christian Louboutins and my silky yet wavy locks flowing wildly around my face, I looked exotic and drop dead gorgeous but not the least bit deadly.

Fernando Navarro might have been a well-known bisexual but that certainly didn’t mean he wasn’t unknown to admire a woman’s unique beauty. However, it also meant he didn’t waste his precious time with someone he didn’t find aesthetically pleasing.

I knew it was hard for Ronan to understand because he was used to everything being his way or the highway but I was literally running out of time. My legitimate career as a Drug Enforcement Agent was coming to an end and if I wanted to retire with a pension, I had no choice but to step in and help Eve Kerrigan with her RICO case.

Of course he worried about me and didn’t want anything to happen to me but this was my job. I’d become DEA before we met although we’d known of each other for years. If I cared anything about my position in the government, I’d want to end my career on a good note, certainly not a lackluster one.

Failure wasn’t an option as far as I was concerned.

I grabbed my
Kubotan
knife, which could be easily hidden underneath my dress and my second weapon of choice, an MR9 Eagle with a four-inch barrel that fitted easily into my small Kate Spade handbag.

Nervously, I checked my appearance one more time before I gathered my composure and walked out. Ronan sat on the bed, checking and re-checking his weapon.

“Are you sure you should come along? There’s enough bad blood between the two clubs—understand I’m trying to keep the peace here. We can’t afford an incident that could put the Saints and
Infierno
at war again,” I said as I walked over to him and stood directly in front of him.

He raised dark eyebrows over gorgeous violet-blue eyes. “Is this you tryin’ to tell me what to do because believe me, it’s not workin’ babe.”

“No, I would never try to do that to you—not that it would work anyway—but I’m worried about tonight. Fernando has been described with many deplorable words but that doesn’t mean the man is inept or stupid. Unfortunately, he’s extremely charming, manipulative and cunning. There is a lot going on in the criminal underworld at the moment.
Aztecas Infierno
has a man on the run from the Feds. The Bastards are goin’ through major leadership changes with Evan taking over as National President with Jonesy still being locked up at
Supermax
. Not to mention we’ve also suffered our own losses within the club,” I explained in a cautious voice.

“So what is exactly your plan tonight? You’re not
steppin
’ into that club lookin’ hot as shit with nothin’ to offer . . . not if I can help it,” Ronan shot back.

I shook my head slowly. “No, I’ve got somethin’ to offer him but I can’t tell you. I need the element of surprise workin’ in my favor and believe me, if you already know then your presence won’t have the effect I need you to have.”

He set his gun down and grabbed the free hand I wasn’t clutching my Kate Spade handbag with for dear life. “Please don’t tell me you’re goin’ to blow this whole case wide open and pretend like you are in the power to negotiate a deal for him. Not after what his crew did to us in Birch Tree—that ain’t right. They should all fuckin’ hang, not be givin’ chances to do a fraction of the prison sentences they deserve—”

“Take it up with the Feds, not me. I’m only trying to do my job and get the fuck outta of the DEA. I’m gettin’ too damn old for this shit. Playin’ both sides. It’s just not for me. Not anymore.”

Ronan squeezed my hand hard before he eased up and wrapped a tat-sleeved arm around my waist. “Just promise me somethin’. . . even if you do make some sort of deal with this scumbag, it won’t hold up in court, will it? I mean Eve isn’t gonna try to push it through?”

I smirked. “No. She can’t stand the cartels any more than she can stand the Russian mafia families but they’re a necessary evil. As far as I know, she has plenty on
Aztecas Infierno
right now but she won’t tell me what exactly. I’m assuming it’s way above my pay grade.”

“Are you sure this is what you wanna do?” His eyes stared into mine with such a fierce intensity, I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. “The DEA isn’t just some hobby of yours to keep you busy—it’s your
career
. After what you suffered through with the war . . . I don’t know. I feel like askin’ you to give up for me—for the club—is selfish and wrong.”

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.

F
ernando’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.