rojo
by
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“You’re not going to stop
this?” Said the static
voice.
“No.”
“What is wrong with you!” Pressed the Cuban of five foot nine, a
Carlos lifted his blue gaze as if
awakened from a nap.
“You, is
what is wrong with me.”
The Cuban shifted his feet and sneered his lips beneath the wide mustache. “Without me, you would be Unknown.”
“Yes, I would.”
Fernando stomped across the new
carpet towards the liquor cabinet of plain heavy wood and imported drinking
glasses. All liquors remained in their original bottles.
“You are ungrateful.”
“And you are nervous.”
Fernando did not turn his back
full to the other who had yet to move anything but his ice gaze.
“I will take the girl.”
After a loud gulp of Southern
Comfort that made Carlos roll his eyes, the Cuban smiled huge, teeth white
except for one cigar stain on one front tooth, the one closest to his right eye
tooth. His hair was short and slicked in a fifties glaze.
“Forgive me,” he bowed, “you are
above condemning, amigo.”
Carlos looked at him through what
appeared to be lazy eyes.
“Descuiadado.”
“ME? You are calling me
careless?”
Without warning the Frenchman
slammed both hands to the heavy wood desk.
“YOU allowed the Indian inside!”
“He checked out clean!”
“Of course he did! He is with the
FBI! How could you be so STUPID!”
“You did not call me stupid a
year ago!”
“That is where you are wrong mon ami.
I told you specifically there is to be no shedding of blood. It is a sign of
weakness!”
“You are saying now I am weak?”
“You are STUPID! You forget who
your leader is. You are not the leader, Fernando Grutterra.” He stood to his feet very slow. The Cuban’s
eyes followed the other upward to his six foot one and a half inch height. “Perhaps it is your hope.” Carlos stood there as a man more beautiful
than most walking the streets below, deadlier than any of them.
Fernando swallowed down the rest
of his whiskey. It burned more than usual sliding around in his throat.
Carlos stepped methodical towards
the Cuban even
“Believe me, comrade,” the
Frenchman continued, “you do not want me dead, I will
then be a spirit that will haunt you far beyond your grave.”
Fernando tried to grin for there
was nothing left in his glass to drink.
“I will take the girl,” Carlos
stated again, “you will not go near her or so much as think of it.”
“Is that a threat?” The Cuban made an attempt to stand tall.
“It is a vow.”
His kiss was more absorbing than
usual, contralto, still and silent, his touch moved her in waves, it had only
before this night, promised to. He would not let her breathe as she was
accustomed, as if he knew he could change intimation, with his own. He told her
in a whisper he’d loved her for a hundred years. Hands to chest, she pushed
from him and caught his dark black eyes just as they looked away from the
window. She asked, “what is it
With the back of his fingers he touched her face so gently she felt tears come to h
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About the Book
NICE GUYS ARE not ALWAYS NICE
Jackson's raw upbringing on ancient land becomes his power over the sophistication of Carlos Bin’ere, head and leader of the Circle of Red Fire. Carlos’ Spanish name is L’Lama De La Rojo, meaning the Fire of Red. It is the young hot-willed agent Jackson Martinez who ultimately tears the circle to shreds. But to do this, he must make an unspeakable, unforgiving, unbelievable decision...
About the Author
Susan Gail Cline was born on the Island of Galveston, Texas, raised in the Texas Gulf Coast Region. She now lives in
She has been writing since she was four years old, an accomplished Poet since the age of fifteen, her work published repeatedly throughout the
An advocate for the Native American Culture, she penned THE SONG OF STRONG WIND, produced and released in 1990 by Triumph Records. All proceeds have gone back to the Native Community in some way, as does a portion of all proceeds from her work. She contributes to programs concerning children, families, and the community.
In 1999, she published WARRIOR WOMAN - Native American teachings For Healing The Girl Within for the purpose of workshops and lectures.
She has traveled the
Having grown up in a diverse environment, her work reflects many worlds and ideas, reflecting her love for the many colors of humankind. She has spent her adult life studying religions and cultures of the globe, becoming a bridge of understanding between peoples and customs.
She was given an Indian name by The Ottawa in 1993.
Her landmark novel, “rojo” anchored her work as a writer into agile cognition, delighting readers of every distinction and gustatory perception.
Her courier trademark is shock, surprise, the forbidden, hallmarked by love of family and community that eclipses all distress.
Go to Susan's website for more indepth information: www.susangcline.net