Ghost (A Steele Riders MC #6) - C.M. Steele Page 0,35
may need you to testify one day.”
“Bye.”
“This isn’t ever going to get better, is it?” I asked, tears filling my eyes.
“It will. I promise even if I have to destroy the cartel with my bare hands. I refuse to lose you.” He kissed me hard, then flipped me over his shoulder and carried me to our bedroom.
He plopped me on the bed and then sat next to me. “I’ve been thinking of ways to do this, but there never seems to be a right time. I love you so damn much, Grace. I live for you. Please marry me.” I gasped as I saw the open box in his hand holding a beautiful solitaire diamond with blue sapphires on the sides.
I nodded, crying as I choked out, “Yes.” I didn’t want to rush him because we hadn’t truly been together that long, but I’d waited for this moment since he told me I was his. He slid the ring onto my finger before intertwining our hands.
“I want to marry when your dad comes back.”
“Oh my. I have to tell him.”
“You can call him, angel, but I already asked for his permission.”
“You did? I’m a grown woman, you know?”
“I know, but he saved my life. I owed him the respect a father should receive from the man stealing his daughter away.” My heart melted even more with the fact that he did that.
“I love you, Rick,” I said, throwing my arms around him. It was the first time I called him that.
Quickly, I found myself pinned to the mattress with his body over mine and his hands holding mine above my head. “Fuck, hearing you call me that got me hard as hell. You’re going to be in for a rough one tonight,” he growled against my ear. I giggled and let him prove it all night long.
Chapter 18
Ghost
I had a week until the wedding, and I felt better than ever. It had been a month since Ferguson’s death, and several of the jefes were arrested.
The tape of Ferguson’s death made the news, YouTube, and every other social media site around. I clicked on it while Grace was still at work.
In a fit of curiosity, the station had been swarmed with reporters from every major news affiliate and vloggers as well. They brought him down the steps in cuffs after he’d given his deposition to the judge, when out of nowhere one shot rang out, hitting Ferguson in the head. Screaming and running were all that was left to the camera. Apparently, the cameraman freaked out and dropped it. It took until everything settled down before he picked it back up and his anchorwoman jumped in to explain what had happened as if she’d not been in the middle of an assassination.
Three days after Ferguson’s death, MacDowell’s body had been dumped off onto the ATF’s front steps via drone. There was no mistaking the bastard was dead. For the first fucking time in a long time, I relaxed. I knew this shit wasn’t over, but soon the trial would start. Luckily, the director and his team had acquired the tape of my attempted murder and it would be admissible in trial against the remaining fools who weren’t already dead.
The cartel’s leader escaped the authorities on a technicality. There were too many fucking people being paid under the table, and that included judges. The charges that didn’t have shit to do with me had been dropped. They couldn’t charge him for my own injuries because there was no proof that he ordered my execution.
A message arrived via UPS from the Villanueva leader himself. “Call this number to talk.” I rushed over to Boomer for his take.
After reading the simple letter, he said, “Call. We don’t want that kind of trouble, and honestly with one cartel on our backs, another is too damn much. If they bring trouble, I’ll ride and kill every single one of them. My wife is way too damn important to me to lose.”
“Understood.”
We sat in Boomer’s office and made the call on a secured line.
“Hola,” a woman answered.
“Hola. Puedes hablar con El Jefe?”
“Quien llamada?”
“Ricardo Martinez.”
“Esperate.” Her voice faltered and then she let out a moan. “Hector. Telephono.” Her words were a struggle to get out, and I realized I’d caught them in the middle of fucking.
“Martinez. This line is secure. Who is with you?”
“My associate. Who is with you?”
“Mi reina.”
“Pues. What did you need to discuss? As far as I’m concerned, the only thing we have to say