Page 1 of Reckless Forever
Ivany Montoya
2 years prior
Sitting outside of the massive estate, I opened the mailbox and set the letters inside for Santos. Then I lit a blunt and inhaled it, taking in my last bit of fresh air. It had been years since I had been back in Bolivia, but a few years weren’t enough to change the look of the city that raised me. Looking at my surroundings. It was just about nightfall, the sky was dark, the roads were quiet, and it was something different about the air tonight. Normally, it would be humid, but tonight it was windy. Almost like the air was whispering to me, telling me to run.
I knew that they were coming, but I was tired of always running. I had been running for the last four years. It was a time when I had this life on lock. But loyalty will have you in a fucked up position. I had sacrificed everything that I knew for the game. My life, my last moments with my wife, my family. And I was tired, if I was going to go out, I was going to take as many as I could with me.
I slid back inside the truck and put the rifle back on my lap. The girl in the passenger seat of the car looked at me, eyes wide, shaking against the leather. I didn’t pay her fear any attention as I continued to pull from my blunt and turned on the radio.Finding the perfect song - Pac, Makaveli, and turned the radio up full blast. I rode through the streets and gripped the steering wheel while I rapped the words of the song. My mind had been made up, and tonight was the night.
The informant I paid on their team had already given me a heads-up that they were coming after me. As soon as I came back, they were on notice. They had blocked off all exits, posted up at all airports, and had the hotels under surveillance. But it was cool. As many niggas that I had taken out, I wouldn’t cry like a bitch when death was knocking at my door.
“Please,”The girl said from her seat once the song faded out to the next one.
When ‘Hit Em Up’ came on, I chuckled and choked on the smoke that I had been holding in my lungs. It was a perfect song for the occasion. Making a U-turn, I went back to the place that I used to call home. It didn’t take long before we pulled through the gates, and I ushered her out of the truck and through the front door.
“Please don’t,” she begged as she clenched her jacket and hugged herself.
I flicked the lighter over the blunt for a second time, lighting it since it had gone out.
“Shut the fuck up and sit down!” I barked at her. If she was thinking that I wanted to fuck her, that should have been the least of her worries. Pussy wasn’t going to do me any good, and neither were her pleas. Her eyes widened as I pushed her deeper into the house, and she saw the many guns that I had on the table. Motioning for her to sit across from me, she sat hesitantly.
I hummed this Bolivian chant. They said that at every funeral, it was supposed to be meant to sing your loved ones into Heaven.
As soon as she recognized the melody, I could see tears rolling down her cheeks as she rocked on the couch with her arms still wrapped around her body.
We hadn’t been in the house more than five minutes before I got a notification that there was movement outside the home. I listened closely as I heard the sound of cars pulling up in the distance. I ashed the blunt and then picked up the FN-SCAR with a smile. When it was go time, it was showtime.
They kicked the door open and stormed the house. As soon as they rounded the corner, I lit up the entire entrance. The first four were dropped instantly. Then they did a flash bang and blinded the fuck out of me. I could hear the girl screaming as we all shot wildly over the apartment.
The first shot that I felt ripped through my stomach. The second, in my chest. I fell to my knees, just barely clutching the rifle, losing my strength. I could feel myself choking as bullet after bullet tore through me. The gun fell at my feet, and as I fell backward, the last thing I remembered seeing was the girl on the couch with a bullet in the center of her forehead before a nigga stood over me and emptied the clip. Even in death, I wouldn’t drop a tear. I smirked as darkness took over me. Mission accomplished.
Santos,
My dear friend. If this letter reaches you, it means I am no longer with you. Dead. And the world that I once had in the palm of my hands has moved on without me. I trust you more than anyone else, as you have trusted me over these last forty years. You understand the weight of loyalty, blood, and promises that outlive people.
I am writing not as a friend, not as a man who is emotional or remorseful, but as the father of your goddaughter. You have watched her grow up from a child, you have pushed her on swings and protected her from dangers unknown to us bothwhen I couldn’t. You know the child and the woman. You know her stubbornness, her pride, her laughter, but most of all her innocence.
We both took blood oaths. And yours becomes a command today. I made one final sacrifice to keep her safe. My daughter is to be untouched. Untouched by this life, untouched by men who will come in her life and mean her harm. And untouched by curiosity.
I am not asking you to be gentle with her, I am not asking you to be fair. I’m asking you to be relentless. Knowing my daughter, she will fight, she will rebel, but if she chooses to defy the world that I am leaving for her, then the responsibility falls upon you to enforce my dying wishes.
Do not misunderstand me. I don’t ask these things of you lightly. I have watched this world destroy everything that I love. I have seen men take things that they did not earn, women being broke from their weakness, and families being shattered. My daughter, our daughter, cannot fall victim to that. Make her safety your priority, her body, and her name untouchable.
Act not only as her protector but also as the judge, jury, and executioner. You are to end the life of any man who chooses to claim her heart….
CHAPTER 1
Judah Jennings
As soon as we made it to Santos’ estate, the rain came out of nowhere. We had been in Bolivia for the last two weeks, and the sun was beating down so hard that I could smell when a bitch skipped their morning shower. Now, the sky was black, and it looked like something straight out of a disaster movie before the town got washed away. In all the years we've been here, the locals have always told us that the weather gets like this, but we had never seen anything past a thunderstorm. But this? This was different, the kind of storm that made the ground move under your feet.
We had gotten soaked outside with Santos, and by the time that we showered and came back downstairs, the rain was already pooling against the glass. Jax and one of the security guards had been putting down towels to stop it from seeping underneath the door. I watched in slow motion. I wanted to help, but the weed that they gave me at the coca farm had me lifted. My legs and arms made me feel like one of the blow-up dummies outside the car lot, just swinging in the wind. When they offered it to me, I tested it because I know they like to play with liquid cocaine here, and it was clean. Shit, I was so high that Jax tested it again just to be sure. I wasn’t tweaking or anything,just felt like I was floating. I don’t know what the strand was, but I know that as soon as this high wears off, I’m bringing a boatload back to New York.
Not only was I high, but I was also sore as hell after Santos’ tree knocked me out. I wasn’t any help to anyone, so I just chilled and tried to keep my head up while they handled it. Every time it thundered, I could feel the sound vibrating in my chest. And by the time I took a second look outside, I gave up any hope that we would be out of here tomorrow. The rain was damn near waist-length, and the lights kept flickering on and off.
We were going to be stuck for a while, and I wasn’t looking forward to that at all. Santos was family, but I had been living on my own since I was seventeen, so I wasn’t a fan of being in anyone’s house but my own. I liked my space, and I wanted to be comfortable. I told Jax that we should’ve just left, but he said Santos was going to cuss. I couldn’t understand it anyway, so it didn’t make a difference for me.
By the time the housemaids had finished dinner, they had plated the food and sat down to eat with us. Then Santos stopped Jax from eating and told him that we were waiting for another guest. Normally, we wouldn’t eat from anywhere other than our favorite Bolivian restaurant when we visited, but at this point, we didn’t have a choice. The only groceries that he had that didn’t have to be cooked were fruit and some potato chips. Hungry and high was a hell of a combination.
