The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia Read online

  The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Prologue

  Dear Reader: A Word From Storm Chase

  The Mule

  An Erotic Romance in Colombia

  By

  Storm Chase

  Text Copyright @ 2013 Storm Chase

  All rights reserved

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN: 9781301934003

  The girl on the cover image was provided to Wikimedia Commons by Sherry Zhang from China. Thanks, Sherry!

  Although many of the places mentioned in The Mule exist, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  With thanks to Ricardo, manager of Latin Quarter in Bahrain, for the help with the Colombian slang, and to Julie for her fearless editing and commenting.

  Other books by Storm Chase

  Chocolate: An Erotic Romance in Siberia

  With Star and Alexei

  Lost Weekend: An Erotic Romance in Wales

  With Micah and Bryony

  The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev

  With Max and Tony

  Blackmail Bride: An Erotic Romance in Scotland

  With Lucy and Jack

  (an older, shorter edition was formerly published under Normanda Whyte)

  Sold!

  A Romance in The Sudan for New Adult readers

  Free only on Smashwords

  For news of new releases, please visit:

  http://www.facebook.com/StormChaseRomance

  http://www.goodreads.com/StormChase

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Dear Reader: A Word From Storm Chase

  Prologue

  A toot and a Cuba Libre combo was the best party fuel. Cleo wanted to live in Colombia forever. These people really knew how to party. With one hand on Pedro’s shoulder, she bumped and ground her way through ten more sets without pause.

  “Christ, you’re fit!” Pedro puffed. “I need a break.”

  “Have a toot, “ Cleo advised him. “Whoohoo! Let’s party!”

  He was watching her from the bar. At first sight, he thought she was very young. Then he looked again and added ten years to her age. She’d worked hard at keeping in shape and at making the most of her looks. She must be an actress or professional entertainer. The auburn hair tied on top of her head in a ponytail and the huge blue eyes were stunning. So was the lithe body, dressed in a short skirt that showed off endless legs and a wraparound top that left little to the imagination. Just looking at her made him ache to have her. “The girl, who’s she with?”

  “She is a guest of the house, señor.”

  “The latest fiancée?” Pedro was famous for declaring eternal love that lasted a week at best.

  “His brother, Juan. She is here on a holiday. From England.”

  “I see.” He watched her dancing a slow number all by herself in the middle of the floor. Most girls would look ridiculous but this one had it all: grace, poise and rhythm. Even though she was sky high. It really was a shame. Such a waste.

  Cleo saw him watching her. He wore the same jeans and silk shirt combo as the locals. He had black hair too but his pale eyes marked him as foreign. A gringo. He had a deep tan though, Cleo saw. He must have been here for weeks. He was staring at her. For a moment she felt as if she’d been teleported. It was as if he were standing right in front of her.

  It must be the coke. Pausing a split second on the upbeat, she struck a hipshot pose and stared directly in his eyes. Then, laughing raucously, she turned around and teased Pedro into doing the lambada with her. The gringo could look all he liked. Cleo was determined to enjoy herself. It was her last night in paradise.

  Ten minutes later, the music slowed. Pedro collapsed and decided it was time for a break. Cleo stood next to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to dance again. She was looking at the gringo, wondering who he was.

  “Stay away from him,” Pedro warned Cleo softly. “He’s trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s asesino.”

  “What? An assassin?” Cleo said amazed. “You’re kidding!”

  “Two men tried to rob him,” Pedro shrugged. “He killed them.”

  “Oh.” Cleo thought that killing in self-defence was hardly assassination. But then she looked once more across at him and shivered. Those pale eyes in the dark face looked menacing. Then she shrugged it off. He had nothing to do with her. She was ready to have a blast. “Dance with me, Pedro,” she begged him. “I want to party all night long!”

  As she oozed across the floor with Pedro, she suddenly caught sight of two minders walking in. The man with them had a familiar profile. The ever so slightly shaggy hair, long arrogant nose and pointed chin rocked her to her core.

  “Juan!” Dumping Pedro unceremoniously, she shot across the floor and into his arms. “Ohmigod, I thought you’d never come!”

  The pale-eyed man looked up from his drink. He watched as the two minders retreated to the far end of the bar and settled down with a bottle of tequila. Typical amateurs! He wouldn’t hire them to guard a henhouse from a fox.

  The girl and her lover were so close that he could hear every word.

  She was wrapped around Garcia Riviera, clearly delighted to see him, but her lover was frowning furiously.

  “I see you’re having fun!” he snapped. He slapped her hands away impatiently and glared over at his brother.

  Cleo followed his gaze. “I was dancing with Pedro,” she faltered.

  Juan didn’t look happy. “What else were you doing while my back was turned?” he hissed.

  “Nothing, Juan, nothing.” She dreaded these scenes but she knew they were inevitable. Juan was horribly jealous. It was part of the machismo, part of his Colombian heritage. “I was only dancing,” she soothed him. “In public.”

  He pushed her away from him. “So go dance. In public,” he sneered.

  “Oh Juan, don’t be like that!” she wailed. She threw herself into his arms again and clung. “You know it’s you, only you!”

  Crawling, apologising, and reassuring him of her devotion, finally restored his smile. He gripped her chin and stared into her eyes. “You know you have my heart.”

  She beamed at him. “I do love you so much,” she said shyly.

  Looking on from just a few feet away, it was impossible not to listen in. Her voice was sweet and clear. She was so focussed on her lover that she had eyes for no one else but Garcia Riviera knew they had an audience and didn’t care. When Garcia Riviera kissed the girl, she was all sighs and silk. It really was a shame; such a waste.

  “I have a present for you,” Juan murmured. He produced a small box, filled with coke.

  “I already had some earlier,” Cleo said hesitantly.

  “With Pedro!”

  “No, no,” she lied. “Just by myself.” She saw Juan’s eyes glitter with suspicion. “Actually,” she babbled, “it was hours ago. I’d love some, Juan.”

  She was rubbing up against him, gazing at him wi
th gentle eyes. He pushed her closer to the bar with a rough hand, blind to the enticing softness of her.

  “Let’s go somewhere quiet,” Juan suggested. “I’ll get a bottle.” His eyes slid along the bar, looking for a waiter. They stopped as they encountered the hard grey eyes.

  Cleo felt Juan stiffen. Then he nodded a brief greeting and began tugging her away. She wanted to ask how he knew the gringo but one look at Juan’s face dissuaded her. He didn’t like her asking questions and to ask about a strange man would definitely set him off.

  Juan was pulling her along, too impatient to wait for a bartender. “We’ll get room service,” he said absently.

  “Did you have a good meeting?” Cleo asked. “Did you make a sale?”

  Juan frowned at her. “What did I tell you about questioning me?”

  “I’m sorry, Juan,” Cleo said instantly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that Pedro was saying...”

  “You were checking up on me?” he hissed.

  “No, no, no!” Cleo exclaimed. “I just asked if everything was ok, I mean, you’ve had to be away so often, Juan, I just wondered if everything was ok.”

  “You think I am a failure?”

  “Absolutely not.” Cleo was almost in tears. “We were just talking, that’s all.”

  Her crushed demeanour didn’t soften him. “If you like talking to my brother so much, go be with him!”

  She shook her head. “Oh Juan! I only think of you!” She put her arms around him. “Let’s go upstairs. I want you so much.”

  He frowned at her. “We’ll ask my brother to join us.”

  “Juan!” She was laughing, thinking it a joke. “Don’t say things like that!”

  “You’re very proud suddenly.” His tone was biting, sarcastic. “Considering what you are, I thought you’d be more accommodating. I’m sure he’ll pay, if that’s what you’re after. What are your rates?”

  Her face fell. “Juan, please don’t. You know you’re the only one.”

  “Then you’d better prove it, hadn’t you?”

  He watched them leave. He hadn’t expected that vibrant girl to be a working girl. Evidently she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. It really was a shame.

  Chapter One

  “Shit, shit, shit, I’ve got far too much stuff. I’m going to have to pay a bomb to get it all home.” Cleo stuffed the heavy Aztec mask into her suitcase and tried her carryon bag again. Its thick luxurious leather was beautiful but it did weigh a tonne.

  Juan had left an hour earlier, off for another meeting. Cleo was already missing him. Never mind, she told herself. You will see him in London in a few days.

  Digging into the case, she discovered four packs of Colombian coffee. Juan must have put them there. He loved his morning coffee. And he insisted on drinking only Colombian coffee. How like him to treat her suitcase as his own! It was a good sign, she thought fondly. She shoved the mask into her handbag. They probably wouldn’t weigh her handbag.

  Right, she was ready to go. She saw it was just past 6AM. Being on the equator, the sun was about to come up. It promptly went down again 12 hours later, which meant the days were short in Medellin but Cleo loved the velvet night as much as the tropical heat of the day.

  She looked around the room. Everything was packed. She decided that she had time for one last quick swim.

  For the last morning of every fortnight, no matter how late she’d been partying, she’d crept out of the room and watched the sun rise over the mountains. It would hang over the peaks, painting the sky a stunning blue-green and yellow. It was impossibly beautiful.

  Slipping into the pool, the water felt cool yet silky. Cleo floated on her back. It felt like flying. Laughing, she flipped forward and rolled under the water. Curling up in a ball, she stuck out her hands and whirled her arms until her body rolled like a dervish. Keeping her eyes open, she could see the snap shots of the sky switch with glimpses of the blue tiled bottom of the pool.

  Cleo finally surfaced with a splash and gulped the fresh air that was already turning balmy. A lone birdcall floated in the air. It was worth missing breakfast for this. Another five minutes and then she’d have to change like lightning and rush to the airport. She’d leave her wet bikini behind; someone was bound to find it useful.

  Cleo pulled herself out of the water and looked for her towel.

  “Looking for this?”

  It was him again. The gringo who’d been staring at her last night. The killer. He towered over her as he handed her the towel.

  Cleo hesitated a moment, intimidated by his sheer size. She wasn’t exactly short at five feet eight but he topped her by at least four inches, maybe more. His eyes were very light grey, so light that they were almost colourless. They seemed to see straight into her. Like the night before, everything around them faded into the background. Even the birdsong seemed muted.

  “Thanks.” Cleo took the towel and walked away quickly. He gave her the creeps. She didn’t want to spoil her last moment in paradise by spending it with a killer. She heard him call something after her so she broke into a run and pretended not to hear him. She didn’t want to miss her plane.

  She needn’t have hurried. Storms in neighbouring Panama and Costa Rica were causing endless delays. The airport was heaving with people, all gesticulating and complaining. Cleo didn’t care. Happiness was giving her a high; a natural one for once.

  Cleo hugged herself with joy. She’d have a coffee and enjoy watching the people go by. Scrabbling in her handbag to see if she had enough cash left, she suddenly spotted a little baggy. It was the remains of the coke she’d shared with Juan last night.

  The plastic had torn a little but Cleo managed to pick out the grains that had spilled out with a dampened finger. Well, some of it. Juan was always so generous. That baggy had been enough for four people for a week, not two people for a private party.

  She nipped into the ladies, tipped out the rest of packet, snorted it and threw the empty plastic into the bin. There was no sense in wasting it but Cleo vowed that after this, she’d not take coke for at least a month. The way she was going, it was becoming a habit. She’d hardly slept at all for the last fortnight and she knew her body needed more rest, especially when she went back to work. She’d quit for a while. Cleanse herself. Except that Juan would want to party when she got home. After all, they’d have to celebrate. Well, she’d do that and then quit. For a month.

  Cleo knew she’d been overdoing it but as the coke hit her, she decided she wasn’t worried. She was feeling good. Life was wonderful. The flight would be perfect. And she’d miss Colombia but she’d be back.

  Cleo hugged herself happily. She couldn’t wait to see Juan again. Handsome, rich and gloriously available, she’d been flattered that he’d picked her out. There were much younger and prettier girls at the club but it had been Cleo that Juan had made a play for. After a whirlwind romance, she’d been overjoyed that he’d asked her to take a holiday in his home country. When she’d realised that he planned for her to meet his family too, Cleo’s happiness knew no bounds.

  It was a pity that he’d not been able to spend much time with her. She wished she’d seen more of him this holiday. Or that they’d at least take the same flight home. But there it was. Emeralds didn’t sell themselves. And it was great that Juan was so dedicated to the family business. It showed real character.

  She wondered if he’d give her an emerald ring for the engagement. Maybe they could come and live here forever. After all, Juan’s family business was based here. That would be wonderful too.

  Cleo was on top of the world. She still couldn’t believe it was true. Juan really, really loved her. Last night, when they had gone upstairs, Juan had wanted his brother to join them. When she’d refused to have a threesome, she thought he was mad at her. But it had all been a test.

  “I know I have your love now,” he’d whispered. “When we are in London, I shall have to meet your father.”

  “That would be a
problem,” Cleo laughed. “I’ve never met him. You can ask my mum if you like.”

  For once Juan had laughed with her. “You’re perfect,” he’d whispered.

  Just thinking about Juan made Cleo so high that she couldn’t tell if it was the coke or love.

  She’d been so immersed in her thoughts that time had flown by. Cleo suddenly realised they were calling for her flight to board. She ran to the gate but she had forgotten there would be another security check.

  She queued impatiently at the x-ray machine, becoming more and more uptight as the people in front of her set off the alarms by forgetting to take off their jewellery or their shoes or some other stupid security rule. Cleo thought it was all nonsense when airline crew and cleaners waltzed through without anyone even looking at them.

  By the time she got to the front of the line, she was twitching. Her bag went through but the security official looked at Cleo, frowned at her and picked it up.

  “I’m in a hurry,” Cleo pleaded. “My flight is boarding.”

  He shrugged and looked inside her bag. Lifting out the mask, her makeup and the other half a dozen items she’d crammed in, he hefted it carefully, as if assessing it’s weight. Then he put it through the X-ray machine again.

  “Oh come on!” Cleo moaned. “I’m going to miss my plane!”

  This time the bag went halfway through, halted, and then stopped. The security man pulled it out again and looked inside carefully, touching the lining.

  “Come oooooooon!” Cleo groaned. Then she saw the excited look on the security man’s face. Puzzled, she looked at the display unit. “What is it?” she asked. It looked just like a bag to her, a bit fuzzy in the centre but just a bag. But the security man jabbered excitedly into a walkie-talkie. “Oh no!” Cleo groaned. She was going to miss her flight.