McKuen’s Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

dominated most sports.
    She threw the ball harder. It hit shy of the wall and bounced high. Duke caught air and snagged it.
    “Whoa! Good catch, buddy!”
    She grinned again. An image of Cee and her, sixteen, strutting down the sidewalk, tank tops and short shorts, six feet five on platforms, too much makeup; Latina, with blond-streaked hair from their Swedish grandmother, full lips, high cheekbones and slender legs from their father’s side.
    Traffic stopped, boys hanging out of cars, catcalling, whistling, hooting their names. “Bonita Bella! Carmelita Clarinda!” Like they were rock stars or something.
    She blazed a fastball at a strike zone she’d chalked on the wall. Low and away. Try and hit that.
    Her face clouded. Shrewdly judging the girls’ personalities, their father had groomed CeCe to run the family business. They were developing a bond she could never have. Back then it was heartbreak, her other half being taken away, but she talked it over with Mama and set her sights on law school.
    The ball got past Duke and he almost fell down, scrambling. She chuckled and slung a lazy, looping curveball. Oops, if the batter was right-handed, woulda beaned him.
    Then Papa died and Cee took over. She didn’t want to think about the rest. No home for darkness in her heart. More fun to remember family jibes about their height, and teenage boys.
    She tried a screwball. It got away, Duke tore ass across the yard and almost slammed into a tree. Fifty tosses later she told him to do his business and went back in the house.
    One thing was certain. Whatever happened, wherever life took them, she loved Cee.
    _____
     
    CeCe Dias adjusted her headset. She lifted a handful of wavy, golden tresses with her thumb, smoothed them back over the earpiece and tapped the blinking button for line two. Her voice was honeyed and warm.
    “Vincente, old friend.”
    “Carmelita, mi querida .”
    “Here’s what we should do, tío . You make the final decision ‘cause you’re there, but if possible, let’s shoot for August.”
    “Then August it will be.” CeCe paced, gazing down Wilshire Boulevard’s Miracle Mile district, traffic snarled as far as she could see.
    “It would be best but it’s your decision,” she said. He began a lengthy response. She cut in.
    “Just tell me if you need anything. We still have about four hundred thousand in the budget.” At the desk, she lifted a tiny Lenox cup and took a sip.
    “This is good,” Vincente said. “My numbers match. Just to make sure, my share—”
    “Of course. Your bonus is half of the remaining budget as we agreed. But do not skimp on nutrients, this crop has to be primo.”
    “It will be so.”
    She smiled sweetly. “ Gracias, amigo .” She tapped the line off, removed the headset and slipped it into the charging holster.
    CeCe closed her eyes, thankful for her father’s vision. Under cover of a licensed Colorado marijuana growing operation, Vincente was cultivating a richer crop, coca.
    He was convinced that this year the ranch would yield a stock rivaling the finest Bolivian, Peruvian or Colombian product. Becoming a source instead of a distributor would be highly profitable and cut down on risk. She looked at a dark-haired man.
    “Anything from the IRS attorney?”
    “He doesn’t want to talk to me, just you,” he said. She stood tall at the penthouse window, commanding herself to be calm. Her mind followed her gaze over rooftops.
    In a few short years, she’d built an empire. When her father and four other men—The Five—were assassinated, she seized power. Hesitation meant death. Their rivals would have wiped out the cartel had someone not taken control.
    “Tomorrow, Ernie.”
    “You sure?”
    “Seven a.m., but yeah. Goin’ to mamacita’s , then back here. It’s all crap I gotta do, we’re done. Seven, OK?”
    “You got it, Ceece.” His eyes lingered but she ignored him.
    Business first, then family, then fun, in that order. It took a guy at least six