Montana Falls (Red Diamonds #5)

Chapter Nine

T he low hum of Beau’s car engine was the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the barren outskirts of Diamond Grove rushed by, the city lights far behind us. Beau sat next to me, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other drumming a quiet, almost rhythmic beat against his knee. His expression was like stone—unreadable, distant, his eyes trained on the empty highway stretching ahead of us.

He was ridiculously hard to talk to. Be near. Normally it wasn’t a problem, but without Sapphire or other people present as a barrier, I felt like a child again. A little girl siting with her father, desperate not to say or do anything that was wrong and could get me in trouble. And sure, I was a grown ass woman now. I didn’t need to fear anyone, least of all a man.

But I couldn’t stop myself from casting glances his way every few seconds, wondering just how far his politeness would extend beyond a ride to the airstrip we were heading towards together.

A convoy of cars followed close behind—sleek black sedans filled with Red Diamonds soldiers and two armored SUVs with my cartel members packed inside. The further we drove from the city, the more isolated the world became. No other cars. No streetlights. Just trees and woodlands swallowing the road ahead.

I adjusted the collar of my leather jacket, brushing off the sweat that clung to the back of my neck. The tension in the car was palpable. Beau and I weren’t exactly friends, but we had an understanding that this was a job. A favor for Sapphire.

I was in town; he needed more soldiers. It was an easy choice.

But as the miles wore on and the emptiness of the road stretched ahead of us, a knot of frustration began to form in my chest. We were running later than we’d hoped, thanks to an earlier bout of traffic, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. The O’Malley’s and their Vice King bastards had a way of slipping away, and if we missed our shot as they got off their plane, it was more than likely they would stick around to cause more havoc. I didn’t like being late, nor did I enjoy failing anything.

So the last thing I needed was a silent and broody gangster who hated me because I had a pussy between my thighs.

“Okay, I’m going to come out and say it.” My jaw ticked. “This is awkward, and I want to have a conversation. I don’t care if it’s about the weather, your favorite type of gun, or even if you want to just sing a song.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asked it in such a monotone way I didn’t know if he cared about my answer.

“Yes.”

He snorted. “Why?”

“Every man I meet falls at my feet. Either out of respect, fear, or lust. I worked hard for that reaction and now I need it.” I didn’t feel the need to lie. “But you have none of that for me. You actively hate me and-”

“I don’t hate you, Raya.”

My head cocked. “You don’t?”

He shook his head. “I loved Lucia, and you remind me of her sometimes. You look similar. Plus, you’re an excellent leader, and you helped Sapphire when she needed it. I have nothing but respect for you.” He paused a beat. “Even if you are a woman and a Gomez one at that.”

“Okay. Misogyny aside, I don’t mind you either.”

“I am not a misogynist.” My brows rose, and he carried on. “I don’t think women are less than men. Or that they should be in the kitchen or breeding or any other bullshit. I just can’t fucking stand looking at them or interacting with me because-” He cut himself off, but I didn’t need to hear more when I already knew his logic.

Instead, I gave him an out from the conversation and asked, “How is Angel? He seems okay when I call him.”

I was going to visit my nephew soon, but an update now would be nice to hear and far safer a conversation to have.

“Angel’s doing good. He’s fit in really well and he seems to be making friends. He hangs out with Yumi, Henley and Diamond a lot. Plus, he’s been helping Lincoln with his Spanish and they seem to have things in common, too.” Beau kept his eyes on the road, not glancing my way.

I’d been keeping tabs on my favorite nephew, but at a distance. He was young, smart, and still had time to escape this world. But keeping him safe while giving him some room to grow? That had been a balancing act.

With everything that happened to Rina, it had been far more difficult than I’d thought it would, to let him out of my sight. Even though giving him to Sapphire had kept him safe.

The Gomez Cartel was no place for the kind people of the world.

No place for a boy like Angel to live a happy life that he deserved.

Beau’s quiet words pulled me from my thoughts. “Yeah?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. “He’s not getting in trouble with the girls, is he? Henley is rather beautiful and he’s mentioned Yumi, Yeva and Diamond a few times.”

It wasn’t like I thought Angel was going to be a player and run around breaking hearts. But I also didn’t entirely know what his thoughts about girls were just yet. Sure, he was fourteen, and maybe he wasn’t even interested in dating. But it was my job to make sure he was being smart and respectable if he was.

My job to make sure he took after his mother, more than anyone else.

“He’s fine,” Beau said, his eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. “Keeps his head down. Stays out of trouble, but is the first to help when needed. He’s a smart kid and I think he’ll be happy with us.” He snorted. “And Yumi hates men, so the fact she even speaks to him is good. The same goes for Yeva; she tolerates him more than most of the others, and Diamond practically worships the ground he walks on.”

“And Henley?”

“They’re just friends. You have nothing to worry about. Like I said, he’s a good kid.” Beau paused. “I also think he’s been getting more into religion lately. So the whole playboy teenager thing you sound worried about probably won’t be an issue. He’s got more chance of being a priest.”

“His father was a whore.” I admitted. “Fucked around half the world and had more girls notched on his bedpost than there was in all of Vegas.”

“Is he a gangster?”

“He was.” I couldn’t stop my grin.

“Dead?”

“Nobody messes with my sister and lives to tell the tale.” My chest tightened at the thought of Rina. “Or at least nobody messed with her and lived. The same for that pendejo .”

“Does Angel know?”

“Yes. I don’t keep secrets from him. He knew what his father was like and why I killed him, and he was okay with it.” I let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing from my chest. “I appreciate you keeping an eye on him, anyway.”

Beau nodded, a silent acknowledgment. It wasn’t a big deal to him, probably just part of the job. But to me? It was a lifeline. Rina’s death still weighed heavily on me, and protecting her son was the only way I knew how to make things right. I didn’t let it show—couldn’t afford to—but the relief was real to know I had managed to do one right thing by my sister.

I would keep her son safe, and I would always do that. From now until my last breath.

The hum of the engine filled the silence again, the road ahead narrowing as we neared the airstrip. My hand drifted to the Glock holstered at my side, fingers running over the cool metal. A habit. I’d done this kind of thing more times than I could count—raids, hits, firefights—but the anticipation still tightened my chest, sharpening my focus with each passing minute until we made it to the road near the airstrip.

It was a small, private airport, surrounded by nothing but fields and fences, the kind of place people like us used for smuggling, not commercial flights. A few low buildings and hangars dotted the horizon, lit by a few dim floodlights. It looked abandoned, but I knew better.

Cassie O’Malley was supposed to be here—or at least, she had been. And if she wasn’t, then ideally someone I could kill would be.

Beau slowed the car to a crawl as we pulled up to the chain-link fence that surrounded the airstrip. The convoy of vehicles behind us came to a halt, the air suddenly thick with anticipation that fuelled me more often than not. My heart pounded a little harder as I scanned the area, taking in the empty runway, the low hum of distant engines, and the faint smell of jet fuel hanging in the air that seeped through the slightly cracked car window.

“Looks like we missed her,” Beau muttered, his voice tight with frustration. His eyes scanned the airstrip, sharp and calculating. “No plane in sight.”

I cursed under my breath, gripping the handle of the car door. “The bitch is slippery, but there’s no way she left this place clean; she should have landed barely thirty minutes ago.”

Before Beau could reply, I saw them—figures moving in the shadows near the far end of the airstrip. A few dozen men, Vice Kings presumably, still milling around. Some were unloading crates from cars, others hanging back, smoking cigarettes and talking like they had all the time in the world.

“There are men still here,” I said, my voice low, the edge of violence already creeping into my tone. “Cassie might’ve slipped through, but her men haven’t, from the looks of things.”

Beau’s lips twitched into something resembling a grim smile, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. “Then let’s make sure they don’t follow her.”

He opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air, his gun already in hand. I followed, my boots crunching against the gravel as I joined him. The rest of our people were already piling out of their vehicles—his Red Diamonds soldiers fanning out in tight, disciplined formation, while my men moved with a kind of quiet, lethal efficiency that I always expected from them.

After I muttered orders to my men, and Beau did the same for his, I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I’d killed plenty of people in my life, but I didn’t relish it. This was business—necessary, brutal, but business all the same. But a part of me was excited for the sheer fact that I was getting rid of people who didn’t deserve life.

Monsters in the flesh of men who would hurt anyone who got in their way.

We made our way around the fence, spreading out in silence. My focus sharpened, my muscles tensed, and I felt the adrenaline hum in my veins.

The Vice Kings hadn’t noticed us yet. They were still too busy with whatever the hell they were doing to pay attention to the world closing in around them.

“Move fast and spare nobody,” Beau murmured to his men, his voice calm but laced with authority. I shot a quick glance at him. His face was set in that cold, unflinching mask he always wore when he was about to do something violent. I knew that look well—it was the look of a man who had already decided every life standing against him was about to be forfeited.

It was the Montana look. The one they all shared that promised you were royally fucked when they looked at you.

I raised my gun, the metal cool against my palm. “You ready?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Beau’s eyes flicked toward me, a brief glance, but it was enough. “Always.”

And then, without a word, he raised his gun and fired the first shot.

The crack of gunfire shattered the stillness, and the world exploded into chaos.

I ducked low, moving swiftly through the gate and across the airstrip as bullets whizzed past, my feet carrying me toward the nearest cover. The crates the Vice Kings had been unloading provided some cover as I crouched behind them, my gun trained on the men scattered across the tarmac.

Two down. Three more scrambling for cover. I fired again, hitting one in the shoulder, and he dropped like a stone. I almost laughed at the feel of it all. The rush. The fun. The power.

It was addicting being who I was, and I had felt that way since the night I’d stolen my crown from the ashes of my predecessors who had never once been worthy of it.

The smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air, acrid and sharp, mixing with the sound of shouting and the rapid-fire crack of shots exchanged. My men were moving, flanking the Vice Kings, using the shadows and the scattered debris to their advantage. Beau’s men were methodical, their movements crisp, calculated—just like him. It was almost scary seeing how perfectly in sync they all were. And had I been a lesser woman, I would have feared just how much power I could feel emanating from Beau.

I popped up from behind the crates, sighting another Vice King as he tried to duck behind a parked car. He didn’t make it. I squeezed the trigger, and he crumpled, the force of the bullet slamming him back against the asphalt. Beside me, two of my men were laying down cover fire, pushing the gangster’s back as we advanced. But they were still outnumbered. I could see the panic starting to set in, the way they moved slower, more erratically, like they knew they were being hunted.

They fucking feared us and I loved it.

“ Move in !” I barked, signaling my men forward. “ If you don’t draw blood, you don’t get to call yourself my men !”

I sprinted toward the nearest hangar, keeping low as more gunfire erupted around me. My heart pounded; my mind focused on one thing. The gangsters were scattered now, no longer holding their ground, but scrambling to get away. I caught sight of one of them ducking behind the hangar door, trying to make a run for it. I broke into a sprint, my boots pounding against the ground as I closed the distance between us.

He never saw me coming.

I grabbed him by the back of his jacket, yanking him to the ground with a grunt of effort. Before he could react, I slammed the butt of my gun into the side of his head, the crack of bone and cartilage echoing in the night. He went limp, his body crumpling beneath me. For good measure, I put three bullets into his head, knowing I would never leave a man alive to come back and haunt me.

I taught all of my soldiers to kill three times. The first kill to get the job done. The second to ensure it actually happened, and you didn’t make a mistake.

The third just for fun and in the case of a zombie apocalypse.

Standing, a little breathless for a moment, my eyes scanned everything, making sure I wasn’t about to be surprised. Bodies littered the airstrip. All Vice Kings; their blood pooling in dark, sticky puddles beneath them.

Beau was on the other side of the tarmac, taking down the last few stragglers with ruthless efficiency. His movements were smooth, precise, like every action had been calculated a thousand times before. He didn’t waste bullets; he used a knife for half of them, slicing throats open with ease.

The last Vice King—a young kid who couldn’t have been older than twenty—dropped his gun and raised his hands, his face pale with fear. Beau didn’t hesitate. He fired his gun once, a clean shot to the chest, and the kid collapsed, his life snuffed out before he hit the ground. Some may have considered it harsh – cruel, even. But it wasn’t.

If he was old enough to join a gang – a gang made of hatred and evil – then he was old enough to deal with the consequences of that.

The air went still again, the only sound the distant crackle of an incoming storm and the heavy breathing of our men as they regrouped. The gunfight was over.

The gangsters were dead.

The Vice Kings really were no more.

I holstered my gun, brushing my dark hair out of my face as I surveyed the aftermath with a wry smile, as each of my men bowed their heads at me, and stood waiting around for their next instruction like the good dogs I’d trained them to be.

Beau strolled over to me, his gun still in hand, his face streaked with sweat and blood. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just stood there in silence, the weight of what we’d done hanging between us.

No words were needed.

Beau extended his hand, and I hesitated for a second before taking it, shaking firmly. His grip was strong, steady, and when he let go, I found myself smiling—just a small, brief smile, but it was real.

“Good work, partner,” I said, my voice teasing but sincere.

He gave a curt nod, his lips twitching into something that might have been a smile. “You too – I didn’t hate it. You’re not so bad.”

“For a woman.” I smirked.

“For a Gomez.” He snorted.

We stood there for a moment longer, watching as his men cleaned up the mess, gathering the weapons and bodies left behind. Mine joining in when I ordered them to do so and hurrying to get the cleanup done. Beau called in one of his legit cleaner crews, and within the hour the entire place was spotless.

No bodies. No blood. No evidence.

“ Let’s get out of here ,” I said, turning toward the cars and shouting at my men. “ You can all go celebrate on me!”

Beau didn’t say anything, but as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me, watching with that quiet intensity he always carried.

We weren’t friends. We didn’t need to be. But now we had something close to an understanding. A partnership. And in our world, that was enough.