King's Reign (The Xander King Series Book 4)

  KING’S REIGN

  BRADLEY WRIGHT

  Also by BRADLEY WRIGHT

  The Xander King Series

  Whiskey & Roses

  Vanquish

  King’s Ransom

  Vendetta (prequel novella)

  Copyright © 2017 by Bradley Wright

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Bradley Wright/King’s Ransom Books

  www.bradleywrightauthor.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead,

  or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design by DDD, Deranged Doctor Designs

  King’s Reign/ Bradley Wright. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN - 978-0-9973926-3-0

  For Heather and Haley Jo

  Two of the greatest girls in all the world

  I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

  Joshua Graham

  In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.

  Theodore Roosevelt

  1

  The Itch

  The slow dance between day and night had begun its twirl out over the Pacific Ocean. As the waves rolled gently ashore, the tangerine sky above Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, continued its fight against the black of night. A warm breeze whispered through the palm trees, rustling the leaves: a tropical lullaby. Out in the distance, storm clouds gathered, the threat of a tropical storm looming.

  The Resort at Pedregal looked out over that ocean, many of its rooms embedded in the side of a cliff. It had a large patio area with sweeping views of the Pacific, and the lagoon-style infinity pool looked as if it emptied right out into it. A circular tiki bar—thatch roof and all—was half swim-up from the pool and half bar stools on the other side. Xander King sat at one of those stools, taking in the view. As he was considering which of the views to be more breathtaking, the auburn sky or the woman relaxing at the pool’s infinity edge, he struck a match, lighting a Davidoff 702 Reserve cigar. After a couple of puffs, the clouds of smoke scented the air with cocoa, almonds, and cream. Xander sat back in his chair, and with a deep, relaxing breath, the woman who was now stepping out of the pool made the decision easy for him.

  It was her.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it was J.Lo who stood toweling off just twenty feet from him. Xander took a sip of his Don Julio Blanco tequila—on the rocks with a lime—and wasn’t at all shy about letting his eyes linger. When the woman noticed him noticing her, she wasn’t shy about flashing him a smile, acknowledging their mutual attraction. Xander moved his attention back toward the ocean. Every time he saw a breathtaking woman, he thought of Natalie Rockwell. And every time he thought of Natalie, it nearly ruined his evening. While it wasn’t that he hadn’t been with another woman since he last saw her in Paris almost five months ago in June, because sexually he had, but his heart still belonged to Natalie. They’d spoken several times on the phone and chatted briefly via text messages, but it was clear Natalie still didn’t believe that Xander could stay away from the fight. She kept saying it was just a matter of time before he couldn’t resist scratching that itch. “You can’t fight who you really are, Xander,” she would say. But he had resisted the itch over the last five months. The CIA had called for him several times, and several times he declined. The only question he kept asking himself was whether he was declining because he wanted to, or if it was for her.

  Bob Marley kept telling him not to worry about a thing over the speakers fixed to the underside of the bar’s thatch roof. He said don’t worry, because every little thing was gonna be all right. But it wasn’t. Things were very different. His best friend, Kyle, had taken over the day-to-day operations of Xander’s company, King’s Ransom Bourbon. And Sam, Xander’s longtime partner in the fight to find his parents’ killer, well, she’d grown bored of watching Xander, in her words, “deny his true calling.” His “calling” to her was defined as continuing to rid the world of bad guys. But after all that happened in Syria, Moscow, and Paris, it seemed to Xander that he had lost his motivation to give a damn about the bad guys and what they were doing. His giving such a damn about them had lost him the chance of a life with Natalie. Sam said he was moping around like a little bitch. Her version of tough love. So while Xander “moped” around, she had been consulting for the director of the CIA, Mary Hartsfield, in her spare time.

  Xander didn’t consider what he was doing to be “moping,” however. He considered it healing. Taking time away from everything—healing his body, and his mind. It was something he needed to do. And just because the last few weeks he’d been having dreams of running down gunmen, jumping out of planes, and pulling the trigger on his Glock 19 didn’t mean he was missing it. And just because he had started back doing the highly intense Murph workout every morning again didn’t mean he was preparing himself to jump back into the fray.

  Did it?

  Xander took a drag from his cigar and followed it with a sip of tequila.

  He heard a woman’s voice beside him: “I’ll have what he’s having.” Her voice. She was even more beautiful now that she was closer. Her skin was the color of caramel; her long, wet dark hair fell down the back of her white tight-fitting, gauze-like cover-up dress.

  Yum.

  Xander smiled. “Aren’t you going to buy me a drink? I saw the way you were ogling me from the pool.”

  She turned from the bartender toward him and smiled back. Wow, what a smile.

  “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”

  Xander made a point to search all around the bar, comically exaggerating the turn of his head and body; then when he turned back to her, he shrugged his shoulders and gave a considering look. “I don’t see any boyfriends.”

  She held up two fingers to the bartender as she laughed at Xander’s playful remark. When she turned to him, he noticed the most beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. They seemed kind, with a heavy side portion of sexy. “And I don’t see any girlfriends.” She looked him up and down. “What’s a tall, dark, and handsome man such as yourself doing out here in paradise, drinking alone?”

  “Waiting on nature to take its course.” Xander didn’t hesitate.

  The bartender handed the woman two drinks, and she slid Xander’s over to him.

  “And he’s charming.”

  “Just wait till you see what I can do in the kitchen.”

  Xander didn’t cook, but it sounded good.

  She held out her hand. “Well, Mister Perfect, I’m Gabriela Cisneros.”

  He took her hand. “Alexander King, my friends call me Xander. You have a beautiful name . . . is it Spanish?”

  “Si, señor.” She took a sip of her drink. As she did, Xander pulled out a bar stool for her. “A southern gentleman, I see?” She took the seat.

  “Si, hermosa.”

  Xander didn’t know Spanish, but he’d heard a man at the airport say that word about Xander’s G6 private jet. His pilot Bob told him it meant beautiful.

  “Lexington, Kentucky.”

  “Ah,” she said, “home of the beautiful horses.”

  “You got it.”

  Xander reached his glass toward hers, and she clanked her glass against it.

  “Salud.”r />
  “Salud,” Xander said. “How ’bout you?”

  “Scottsdale originally. LA now, well, when I’m not in Mexico with Antonio.”

  “So there really is a boyfriend.”

  Gabriela gave a faltering smile. “There really is. And I should really go before he gets back.”

  Xander shifted in his seat and set his cigar down on the ashtray. “I don’t like the sound of that. Jealous type, is he?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Hmm.” Xander contemplated.

  “Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

  Gabriela shifted toward him and recrossed her legs. The long, tan legs that were on another level.

  “It’s nothing. You just don’t seem like the type of woman who would let a man tell her who she can and can’t talk to.”

  “Yeah? What type do I seem like?”

  “Unicorn.”

  Gabriela laughed. “Don’t hold back now.”

  Xander smiled. “You really are a beautiful woman.”

  She sipped her drink. “Those blue eyes of yours are trouble. I bet there is a trail of broken hearts left in your wake, Alexander.”

  Hearing her call him by his full name sent a zing through him. That was Natalie’s thing.

  “You’re safe with me.”

  “He says with such confidence.” She brushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear. “Listen, this has been fun, but I really do have to get going—”

  “Gabriela?” a man called from somewhere behind the two of them.

  Immediately, Xander could see a shift in Gabriela. So much so that he became concerned. She was clearly afraid of whoever just called her name.

  “Shit,” she said in a panicked whisper as she stepped down from her bar stool. “Whatever you do, please don’t antagonize him.”

  Now Xander was really worried about her. This could get interesting really quickly. Xander hadn’t even seen this man, but he knew he already didn’t like him. And just the slightest trickle of anticipatory adrenaline leaked into his nervous system. He hadn’t had that feeling in a while. Xander had no idea what it was like to be hooked on drugs, but he felt as if that little shot of adrenaline had to be what it was like when a junkie got his fix.

  “What the hell are you doing, Gabriela?”

  Xander turned to find a man walking toward them. A man who was every drug-dealing cliché in the book. He was a Mexican man with a thick accent. White blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, tucked into white pants, finishing with some of the tackiest white patent leather loafers on the planet. If all of that weren’t bad enough, his jet-black hair was slicked back, Pat Riley style, and he was wearing enough gold chains and bracelets to make Mr. T jealous. He wasn’t very tall, but he was in good shape, and he stood like a peacock, chest jutted out in front of him.

  Xander answered for Gabriela. “I was trying to buy the pretty lady a drink, but she said her boyfriend wouldn’t much like that. Can’t win ’em all, I guess.”

  He could see the appreciation in Gabriela’s eyes when she glanced at him.

  The man bowed up even more. “Of course she said no. Like she would want attention from a gringo like you when she has me.”

  Xander would let that one slide.

  “Well, you’re a lucky man.” Xander played nice. “Xander,” he reached out his hand.

  The man looked at his hand with disdain and didn’t so much as attempt to shake it. “Go back to your miserable life in America.”

  Xander wanted to leave it alone. He really did. But despite Sam’s assessment that no longer going after the bad guys was Xander denying who he really was, not making a sarcastic comment would have much further gone the way of denying his true self.

  “Charming.” Xander glanced at Gabriela. “I totally get what you see in him.” He looked back to Antonio. “You know you’re not supposed to wear white after labor day. Or a bunch of gold rope chains after . . . well . . . ever really.”

  Damn it.

  Antonio turned to face Xander. “The hell did you just say to me? Do you know who you are talking to?”

  Xander could feel the itch burning inside him. Scratch me . . . scratch me!

  “Um, not sure, but if your phone rings, it’s 1980s Miami calling, and they want their look back.”

  Xander was ready to scratch. He knew it was going to feel so good.

  Antonio lunged at Xander—Xander didn’t flinch—and Gabriela stepped in and pushed him back. “Don’t, Xander, please! Just go. You don’t want to do this. He will hurt you.”

  Another drip of adrenaline seeped into Xander’s bloodstream. It was like a smoker taking his first inhale after days without a cigarette.

  Xander stepped down from his chair. He towered over the shorter Antonio. And Xander’s bulk was more than twice that of the Mexican man. Antonio watched Xander step off the bar stool, and his eyes widened at the thought of this American having the audacity to challenge him. Xander could see by the look in his eyes that this didn’t happen very often. Antonio had the false confidence of a powerful man. A man who was used to people jumping to fulfill his wishes.

  Antonio then turned his attention to Gabriela who was still holding him back. “You are warning him? You are trying to help him? How dare you disrespect me!” Then he took her by the shoulders and tossed her to the side. She landed in a thud on the concrete below her, and the rest of the adrenaline that had been waiting for months to greet Xander released completely, surging through to his taut muscles. He slowly began to roll up the sleeves on his button-up shirt, and his breath became heavier with excitement. Sam was right, Natalie was right, everyone else who had tried to bring him back to battle were all correct: he lived for this shit.

  “Don’t, Xander. Please! Let it go! He’ll kill you!”

  Much to Xander’s liking, Antonio stepped forward.

  It was time to scratch that itch.

  2

  Not Your Ordinary Beach Bum

  Antonio swung a wild left-right combination at Xander’s head. Xander easily shifted his head from left to right, dodging both punches. He could see Antonio instantly recognize that Xander was no stranger to a fistfight.

  Antonio stepped back and removed his shirt, revealing a lot of ripped muscles, but they were all tiny muscles. “So you are fighter, eh, gringo?”

  Xander moved his eyes from Antonio’s and gave the man’s upper body a once-over. “That supposed to impress me? If you’re not careful, I’m going to embarrass you in front of your friends, and your girlfriend.” He motioned toward Gabriela. “You see, she won’t hit you back, but if you try putting your hands on me again, I’ll hit you for her.” The feeling inside Xander was one he had truly missed. His body was begging him to teach this little shit a lesson.

  Gabriela stepped back in. “No one is hitting anyone. Xander, I don’t need your help. Antonio, I couldn’t care less about this man. I was just being polite. Let’s go back and enjoy a nice dinner.”

  Xander couldn’t help it. “You should listen to her, Antonio. Don’t spoil your dinner.”

  Antonio’s body jerked at Xander’s taunts. The three other men with him moved toward Xander, but Antonio waved them off.

  “Brave man,” Xander prodded.

  “I’ll show you brave, esé.”

  Antonio moved forward, and once again Gabriela caught him. This time he made sure she wouldn’t interrupt again, pushing her aside, then slapping her in the face. Xander rushed forward and caught her in his right arm, keeping her from falling. Antonio tried to take advantage and took a swing at Xander. Still holding Gabriela, Xander caught Antonio’s wrist with his left hand and simultaneously drove his forehead forward and shattered Antonio’s nose. Antonio shuffled back a few steps, grabbing at his face.

  “My nose. My nose!” He checked his hands; there was blood everywhere. “You broke my nose!”

  Xander looked at Gabriela. “I’m gonna need just a sec.”

  She took a step away from him. “I’m begging you, don�
�t! You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

  Antonio moved his hands from his nose into fight position. “That’s right, white boy, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  Xander smiled.

  “Is that right?”

  Antonio lunged forward again, swinging a wide right hook. Xander moved his head back an inch, and the punch went sailing by. Xander opened his hand and slapped Antonio across the face. “You like slap fights, right? That’s why you slapped Gabriela? I’ll slap fight with you.”

  Xander slapped him again. Toying with him. Antonio was furious, and he took three more wild swings. The last right-hook threw him so far off balance that after Xander moved to the side, it took only a light smack on the back of the head to send Antonio down to the ground.

  “No, Xander!” Gabriela screamed.

  Xander’s adrenaline was at full throttle. If Antonio couldn’t give him a good fight, he was praying that one of his mountainous, bald-headed bodyguards would give him more of a challenge. Xander let Antonio get back to his feet, but when Antonio reached back toward the back of his belt line, Xander knew the fun and games were over.

  “He’s got a gun!” the bartender shouted.

  “Antonio, don’t!” Gabriela screamed.

  Xander stepped toward him, and as Antonio brought the gun forward, Xander wielded a Thai kick to Antonio’s bicep, and the jarring of the kick sent the gun clacking down on the ground. Antonio quickly bent over to pick it up, and Xander brought the same kick around and landed it to Antonio’s chest. As Antonio desperately tried to suck in a breath, Xander picked up the gun and turned toward the three bodyguards who were closing in on him. They all froze when the gun was trained on them.

  “Take out your guns and toss them in the pool. Now!”

  There was a wildness in Xander’s eyes. And he could feel that wildness palpitating all the way to his core. For the first time in five months, he felt alive.