Accidentally Married
R.R. Banks
“Let’s get married.”
That was the last thing I had in mind.
Then I saw Holly, a curvy redhead in a tight green dress.
I knew she was mine. And I had to claim her.
I tasted her full lips and devoured every inch of her.
I woke up with a ring on my finger, but she was gone…
Our marriage was an accident, but my vows are real.
Finding her isn’t easy. And I’m not the only one who wants her.
The cartel thinks they own her, but they have no clue.
I’m not your ordinary billionaire. I’m f*cking ruthless.
I’ll protect my wife. And our baby growing inside her.
Chapter One
Michael
The night is dark, cold, and I've got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. Gabriel Trujillo called me earlier and told me we needed to meet. And when Trujillo calls, you don't say no. You clear your fuckin' schedule and go where he tells you to. It's a lesson I learned the hard way.
I shudder and pull my coat tighter around me, attempting to ward off the chilly Colorado night. I'm standing in the parking lot of a rest stop on a hill, overlooking the city of Denver. I was born and raised here and I'm probably gonna die here. I just hope that death is still a long time comin' though.
My cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the ID. Trujillo.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself.
With a sigh, I connect the call and stare down at the glitter and sparkle of the lights in the city below me. I'm not an overly sentimental man, but looking down on the city makes me appreciate its beauty.
“I'm here,” I say irritably. “I've been here for twenty minutes already.”
“Running late,” Trujillo said, his Mexican accent coloring the words. “I'm a couple of minutes out. Relax, my friend.”
“Hurry up,” I snap. “It's freezing.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone into my pocket. Ordinarily, I'm more deferential to Trujillo. Given who he is and what he does, it only seems prudent, if not wise. I don't know what got into me just now. Talking to him like that is a good way to get my teeth kicked down my throat.
I guess I'm just cold, tired, and stressed the fuck out.
Turning back, I stare out at the city again, trying to block out the cold, calm myself down, and not to think about what's about to happen. Truth is, I don't know what that is. Maybe nothing. Trujillo has a flair for the dramatic and might just want to make an impression by meeting me in this secluded spot in the middle of the night.
Yeah, either that or he's going to put two in the back of my fuckin' head.
A few minutes later, I see headlights coming around the bend and feel my balls tighten instantly in response. He's here. Shit.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself. “He can't kill you. Otherwise he gets nothing.”
It's something I've repeated to myself a million times already. And even now, after saying it one million and one times, it doesn't make me feel one iota better. Trujillo is a wild card. He's unpredictable and I never know what he's going to do, let alone what he’s thinking. He very well could decide that I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That he'll eat the money I owe him just to wash his hands of me. I just don't know.
And it's that uncertainty that has my balls climbing up into my throat.
The black SUV pulls into the rest stop, as I’m trying to avoid comparing the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires with the sound my bones would make beneath those same tires. The SUV pulls to a stop in front of me and the driver cuts the lights. After being nearly blinded by the headlights, it takes my eyes a minute to re-adjust to the darkness.
I hear the door open. Blinking away the spots, I watch as the driver walks around to the rear door and opens it. Gabriel Trujillo steps out of the vehicle and makes his way over to me. His dark hair is slicked back, and his thick beard neatly trimmed. The dark designer suit is well-fitted to his frame, with a vibrant blue pocket square, complete with matching tie - providing the only bit of color. Trujillo looks the part of a respectable businessman.
He's anything but respectable though.
Gabriel Trujillo is the head of one of the most notorious, violent, and brutal drug cartels in Mexico. Like most of the cartels, he's expanded his business operations into the U.S., moving drugs, guns, and girls. He's also eliminating his competitors along the way. The mass graves that seem almost commonplace south of the border these days, have been cropping up in places like Arizona and New Mexico. Recently, a couple had even been found in southern Colorado.
There is no question that Trujillo is solidifying his hold on power in this part of the States. And I'm right in the middle of all this shit. If I'd known who and what he was when he first approached me, I never would have gotten into bed with him in the first place. But, desperation and a lack of options make a man do stupid things sometimes. Hell, all the time.
He stops a couple of feet in front of me, smiling. He hands me one of the two cups he's holding. I look at it for a long moment, feeling completely uncertain.
“Cappuccino,” he says. “I picked one up for you on our way. Thought you might like something to warm you up.”
I reach out and take one of the cups, eyeballing it skeptically. “T-thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
We stand in silence for a moment, Trujillo sipping his drink as he looks out over the skyline of Denver, admiring it as I had been before he pulled up. I look down at the cup but don't drink, hoping he doesn't notice. Though, I know that poison isn't exactly his style. No, when Trujillo wants you dead, he makes a statement about it. It's a fact I've unfortunately had to learn as he seems to enjoy trumpeting his kills.
After a few moments, he turns around and looks at me. “It's beautiful up here at night,” he says. “Gorgeous view.”
I nod, as thick tendrils of dread wrap themselves around my throat, pulling tighter and tighter. Trujillo's eyes are darker than space and just as unfeeling. It's almost as if he can peel the skin off my bones and completely eviscerate me, with nothing more than a glance.
“Nice to see you, Michael,” Trujillo says, his accent rich and cultured. “Thank you for meeting me out here tonight.”
“Did I really have much of a choice?”
Trujillo smiles. “No, not really. But I am a firm believer in manners,” he says. “What can I say, my mother raised me to believe in being polite and observing social norms.”
“It's cold out here,” I say. “What can I do for you, Mr. Trujillo?”
“I was wondering about the money you owe me,” he says, his voice smooth and pleasant. “And more specifically, when I can expect full payment on your debt.”
I clear my throat and look down at the ground. “I'm working on it, Mr. Trujillo,” I reply. “I mean, we're doing a good job of cleaning a lot of it through the construction projects, and –”
“Yes, you're cleaning some of it and turning a tidy profit,” he says. “But, that is ultimately, a slow process. Considering the interest accruing on your original loan, you're barely breaking even at this point. I'm looking for a more – substantial – payment, Michael.”
Shuffling my feet on the ground, I kick a small stone away. “I'm working on that, Mr. Trujillo,” I say softly. “Times have been tight lately. Some of my bids are getting undercut by –”
Trujillo moves so fast, I barely have time to register the fact that he's in motion before his hand lashes out and slaps the cup of coffee out of my grasp. I watch numbly as the cup sails through the darkness of the night, hitting the gravel of the rest stop. The top pops off and the drink spills out all over the ground.