Oz

By Sienna Mynx

Lyric has everything she wants at this stage in her life. She has a successful career, a new business venture and a sister who has seen her through every trial and triumph since they were little girls. The only thing missing now is someone to share her successes with. She's spent the last year convinced that love on her terms was all that she really needed. That is until she meets Oz. A Mexican immigrant who awakens the deepest passions in her. He wants a friend, a lover, and possibly more. But there's more to him than she knows, and once Lyric enters his world she discovers hers will never be the same...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sienna Mynx
• Release date: Oct 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519946560

Sienna Mynx

Sienna Mynx, bad girl author of over thirty contemporary interracial romances, is acclaimed for her tales of torrid affairs between alpha heroes and the women born to tame them. Her stories awaken carnal desires and provoke laughter, soft sighs and gratifying tears of relief. Sienna’s novellas reflect her thirst for romance told from a steamy, passionate perspective with the diversity women of all colors crave in erotic romance. She lives in southern Georgia.

Book preview

Oz

Sienna Mynx

Published by Sienna Mynx, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

OZ

First edition. October 30, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 Sienna Mynx.

ISBN: 978-1519946560

Written by Sienna Mynx.

Oz,

Copyright 2015 The Divas Pen LLC

Published by The Divas Pen LLC

Cover design by Reese Dante

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [e-mail]. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

For more information on the author and her works, please see www.thedivaspen.com

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Prelude

Through the Fire

2012

Flames taller than trees licked the sky.

They’re dead!

They’re dead!

Everyone’s dead!

Oz spun the wheel hard left and the van went into a swerve that dragged the wheels over the pavement in a spiral burn. The back of the van nearly slammed into a tree. The car trailing them braked in time to avoid a collision. The screams in his head were of children and women inside both vehicles. The passengers shouted at Oz to keep going. Fear had control of Hector now. Once upon a time his courageous second in command had fought against Diablo’s tyranny. Now Hector begged him to drive as fast as the road would allow.

Why stop? Hector shouted. "Don’t! Don’t stop! ¡Vámonos!"

Panic had control now. No matter what they’d been through they couldn’t let fear win. Oz glanced back to see Tico and Javier get out of their truck. He’d hit a tailspin along the winding road in a blind curve along the side of the mountain. If he hadn’t turned the wheel in the direction of the spin they would have pitched off the edge of the cliff down to their burning village. They were lucky.

Oz?¿Qué esta pasando? ¡Vámonos! ¡Vámonos! Hector’s young wife pleaded.

Oz could not leave. Not with Diablo alive. Maybe he should send them on and go back to end this fight. He wanted vengeance, justice, how could he ever achieve it if he walked away now? And there was something else to consider. No matter where they escaped to, the devil would come for them. Nowhere in Mexico would be safe. He had to stand and fight. He was the law after all. And these were his people being slaughtered like cattle. All because of what his family was. His gaze lifted to the crying women and children in the back of the van.

What are you thinking? Hector asked. What now?

Oz opened his door. He wouldn’t have the conversation in a van full of terrified people. He stepped out into the road and slammed the door behind him. Tico approached him first. He had a gun in his hand without the safety. He glanced over to Javier who carried his machete. The blood on the instrument glistened even in the dark. Javier seemed oblivious to it.

What is it, boss? Tico asked. Do we go back?

Go back to what? Hector asked. "Eres loco! No stupid! There is nothing to go back to. Hector continued. The village is on fire. Our friends, family, everyone and what’s left of our lives are gone."

The words felt like a wooden spike being driven into Oz’s skull. He clenched his hands into tight fists. The night wind carried the charred smell of their burning village. He’d never seen a fire or destruction as bad as the one that burned through the valley. Nothing could live through it. Holding his wounded side he dragged his leg as he walked to the edge of the road. He stared down at his life, washed away in flames and ash.

El Diablo, Hector said. He will not stop. Never.

Then we shouldn’t run, Javier said. He raised his bloody machete. We should die fighting.

We have children, women, Tico said.

Better they die beside us than on the run. Javier said.

"Cállate! You may not care about anything or your life, but my wife and children will not be led to a slaughter!" Hector shouted.

Then let’s go. Let’s push the van off the tree and go! Tico said.

Go where? Is there anywhere out there he won’ 87t follow? Oz asked.

Hector looked out over to the stretch of land and desert forest. Oz lifted his gaze from death and looked at Hector for an option. He was out of them.

Texas, Javier said.

Huh? Hector responded.

We go to America. Take them all. Get them over the border, Javier said. Kill anyone that gets in our way.

No. No fucking way. People die trying to cross. My wife is pregnant. She can’t do it. Hector shook his head.

Oz can do it. He can take us over. Can’t you, Oz? Tico asked. "You were Grupos de Autodefensa Comunitaria. You have friends in the border patrol out there. You can find out where they are vulnerable. It can be done."

It’s a risk, Hector said. I’m afraid for my wife. My kids!

You’re always afraid! Tico may be stupid, but he’s got more courage than you. We need to try. Javier said.

Oz tired of the bickering. The men were all afraid, and so was he, as they should be. What they’ve been through the last two years would break any man. What they faced could either kill them or send them all to prison. Crossing the border was dangerous for many reasons.

Oz? What do you think? Tico asked.

It was a risk to take a stand against Diablo, Oz said. Now we have to think of everyone in our care. I couldn’t save her… my Antonella. But I can help you, Oz said. He stared through tears that clouded his vision. He blinked and several fell. He could feel their tiny wet drops glide down his cheek.

We must go. Now! Tico grabbed his arm. You’re hurt.

Oz removed his hand from his side and looked down at the blood covering his palm. He glanced over his shoulder and looked to the van. The sun had vanished. This night was darker than most.

If you say we should try it then I will trust my family with you. Hector looked back to the burning village and made the sign of the cross before him. The men did the same.

Oz nodded and turned away. It would be the last time he laid eyes on his village and the only life he ever knew. But even as he dragged his leg back to the truck and eased inside he had a single thought. This is not over.

Chapter One

The Storm

2015

Lyric’s heart had escaped her breast and lodged in her throat. She strained to see the disappearing road. Visibility was close to zero. She hated driving in summer thunderstorms.

What the hell? Is this rain or a monsoon? she asked.

Where are you? Mya asked.

On my way home, Lyric said beneath a weary sigh.

And?

And what? Lyric asked.

And what happened? her sister said.

Lyric opened her mouth to answer and failed. She let go another deep sigh. The streets were flooded. The news reports were of freak lightening strikes, and trees falling on residential homes. Every road she chose was congested from the overflow off a clogged expressway with bumper-to-bumper cars. All of the traffic lights blinked yellow. And now she battled the nagging urge to pee. She squeezed her thighs together and squirmed. The only option left to her was to take a chance and turn off the main road. There were several neighborhood streets that emptied closer to home.

Lyric? Lyric! You still there? Did you do it? Mya asked.

The partners were in court. So was I, Lyric said.

Huh? Court? But—

I scheduled a meeting for Monday with Ben. I’ll do it then, said Lyric.

"So you are going to see it through? No more excuses. I can tell Ed that we’re ready to move forward."

I said I was, didn’t I? she asked.

The answering silence echoed the sad disappointment she would often hear from her mother whenever she procrastinated. The memory stung. Mya was her half-sister. They shared the same father but had different mothers. They were the same age yet Mya was married with a family and Lyric was single and alone.

If you see this through and open your own firm it’ll change your life. For years they’ve used you, now you are about to be forty—

Mya! Please stop reminding me of my age, Lyric sighed.

Why? It’s a great time in your life. Forty is the new thirty. Look at me! Mya said.

Yes. Look at you. You don’t look a day over twenty-five. You got the body of a super model, and a husband who worships and spoils you and my nephews. Look at your life, Lyric chuckled to mask her envy.

You’re a beautiful auntie, Mya began.

Here it comes, Lyric groaned.

It’s true. You’re beautiful. A kick ass lawyer too. And the best damn cook I know. You have the talent I wish I had. You just don’t have the confidence. You need me to remind you of what is important.

Actually I don’t, Lyric chuckled.

Yes you do. Stop stalling, Lyric! Stop waiting on life and step out on faith! Eddie is going to give you the loan. The bank has agreed to back you. Pull the damn trigger. Tell Ben Erickson and Ronnie Smith to kiss your ass. It’s time.

Lyric’s focus drifted from the conversation to her life the past few years, before her mother’s death.  It’s been a year since Mya had to hold her hand while Lyric buried her mother. It was a sudden, unexpected death. A stroke that lead to a clot in her lungs and then her brain. For months Lyric wallowed in grief. She medicated her broken heart with food and isolation.

There you go ignoring me again, Mya groaned.

I’m pulling up to the house. It’s raining like the dickens here. Let me call you when I get inside. Okay? Lyric asked.

Call me. Ed had his attorneys draw up the paperwork. They should be in your email by now. Did you get them?

I think I saw something, yes, Lyric lied.

Okay. Good. Perfect. Don’t forget to call Michael Gibbons at the bank. I found a cute little office for you. Oh you will love it! It’s downtown too. The college isn’t far so that law library you can’t stay out of is within walking distance.

Mya…

It’s the right price. I promise. Perfect location to attract new clients. Not far from the courthouse too.

Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you back, Lyric sighed. She disconnected the line. The music in her car blared once again through the speaker system. Instead of turning off her car she sat parked in the driveway. When her sister was hyped up there was no point in trying to argue. Mya believed she knew what was best for all of them.

Lyric dropped her head back on the seat headrest. The storm refused to relent. Lyric opened the middle compartment in between the front seats. She dug inside for her garage opener. When she pressed the black button and aimed the small box, the garage door began to lift and then stopped.

What the hell? she asked.

The door lowered and closed. Lyric hit the button again, and it made the same half-effort to lift before pausing. It closed once more.

No. No! Lyric groaned. She’d been dealing with the stupid thing for weeks. She tried adjusting it herself but once a month it slipped off track and she suffered the aggravation. Mya said she needed to have it replaced. That would be just another bill to pile on top of the stack. If she were changing gears in her life and starting her own firm she had to be careful of her pennies.

Lyric tossed the garage opener back over to the passenger seat and grabbed up her laptop bag. She turned off the car. Of course she didn’t have an umbrella. After six days of storms it would be the one thing she forgot when she left her office and headed to the parking garage. She’d have to just brave the torrential downpour to her front door. In her heels and overly expensive business suit she did just that. She ran for the door nearly slipping on the slick pavement twice. When she reached the house she dropped her keys in her haste. She knelt to pick them up and her laptop fell out of her bag into the puddle before her door.

Damn it! she groaned.

She put the laptop in her bag and scrambled to enter the key in the lock. She unlocked her door and went inside. There was no point in hurrying further. She was soaked to her panties, and the hairdo that cost her eighty-five dollars was flat to her head. Lyric dropped her back on the now closed door and sighed with defeat. She closed her eyes. She waited for her emotions to release her. It didn’t happen. Slowly her day began to push down on her shoulders. 

When Lyric opened her eyes she looked around the home she once shared with her mother. She blinked away the tears that brimmed beneath her waterlogged lashes. She hated returning home to the empty silence.

The first thing she did was step out of her shoes. It was a rule she enforced for visitors as well. She shrugged off her wet business suit blazer, and hung it on the antique coat rack near the door. The coat post was made of iron and still held the polishing her mother put on it when she found it at a garage sale. Lyric managed to smile.

She knelt and plucked out her laptop. Lyric dashed across her hardwoods in bare feet to the kitchen, dripping water along the way.  She made it to the kitchen island and opened her laptop. She sat it upside down and the water drained out of it. It was stupid to think that the computer could be salvaged. But if it couldn’t she’d spend most of the night downloading her work documents from the company shared folders. She was in no mood for that.

Thunder clapped above her. She glanced to the ceiling and frowned. The storm wasn’t the typical rain and wind. Today it felt different. Her lights flickered but remained on. The last thing she wanted was a night alone in the dark.

**

Oz tapped his finger on the top of the steering wheel. The rain sloshed to and fro under the instruction of the wiper blades. Six days of storms meant no work for him or his men. The lightening was the worst. They had two tornado warnings that week alone. He glanced over at Hector, knowing that any man would do what was necessary to feed his family. He thought hard on what to say, advise, offer.

Another day of this? I need to work! Hector took a deep breath and in doing so corrected his tone. I can’t feed my family. That’s what I’m saying.

When Oz could offer no other words of encouragement Hector groaned in defeat. He then went on in Spanish about his wife’s unplanned pregnancy, and the landlord raising the rent. How many times had he reminded Hector to speak English? They were in Georgia not Texas. Things were different here. Oz reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. He fished out all the money he could spare. He had beer and lunchmeat at home to get him through the rest of the week.

"No. No. I can’t, hombre. I can’t accept it," Hector put up his hand and swatted the money away.

Consider it a loan. After these storms there will be plenty of work. Roof work, landscaping, many jobs. I’ll make sure Schmidt gives you more hours. You have a baby on the way, Oz smiled.

He could see the man’s pride swell up in Hector. He understood the struggle. They weren’t beggars. They were descendants of strong respected people. And though transitioning into a meaningful life in the U.S. was the escape plan of hunted men, they were determined to do what was necessary and not return to being the men from their previous lives.

"Gracias, Oz, Hector accepted the folded bills. I’ll walk home."

It’s raining, Hector, Oz sighed. He knew why his friend wanted to leave.

"Está bien. It’s not far." Hector tossed open the door and dashed out into the rainstorm before Oz could object. There was little left to say. He contemplated it all in front of the small office building. Mr. Schmidt trusted him, and that trust had extended to him being paid off the books. Oz managed a decent pay from him, but the men who worked under him weren’t valued as much, so when business was slow they felt the burn the worst. Oz employed men like Hector.

Oz opened the door and headed to the store. He walked through the rain unfazed. He’d lived through tougher storms in his life than the one beating down on his shoulders now. Taking in a deep breath he pushed open the door to the small stucco grey office building and entered with his pride in check.

Oz? I was just calling you! said Mr. Schmidt. The old guy was German-Irish. He too had arrived in America as an immigrant. He was a fair man, but a miser.

Did you check Lower Roswell? Like we discussed? Mr. Schmidt asked. It was then the old guy looked him over. Schmidt frowned at Oz’s soggy attire. He dripped a puddle near the door. Oz made sure to stand nearest to the door to keep from bringing his wet tracks forth.

We did. The city is doing most of the work with the downed power lines and fallen trees blocking the roads. I dropped flyers in the mailboxes. When the storm clears the phone will ring.

Eh? You think so? Mr. Schmidt asked.

Oz nodded that he did.

Good. Good job. I just got off the phone with one of the city officials.

Oz frowned.

Mr. Schmidt smiled. It’s good news, Oz. Roosevelt Elementary has a few down trees. I put a bid in for the work. He wagged his finger at Oz. I’ll give you a bonus on this one.

Mr. Schmidt, we need to talk.

Talk? Schmidt frowned.

This week’s pay is short. The men need to work, even when there isn’t any work. Maybe you could—

I can’t pay what I don’t have, Oz. You understand, Mr. Schmidt plucked his jacket and umbrella from by the door. Hey? I was hoping to invite you to the house for dinner. My Maggie is making shepherd’s pie. She loves to feed you, big guy.

Thanks. Tell her rain check. I have plans, Oz said.

Good deal then. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. Eh? No worries, Oz. No worries at all. Okay, talk to you later. Lock up for me. Mr. Schmidt walked to the door and Oz stepped aside for him to leave. He looked over at Oz as if he would say something more. But he didn’t. He nodded his goodbye and put on his cap before leaving. Oz wiped his hand down his face. There was a time in his life when men like Mr. Schmidt groveled at his feet. That time was gone. He was grateful and remorseful over the choices he made in the past. He walked over to the chair and dropped in it. Thunder echoed outside, deep in the heavens. The lights in the office blinked on and off. Oz dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He’d have to do something soon or the man he once was may decide on another course of action. That wasn’t who he needed to be.

**

Lyric stared at herself in the mirror.

Her skin was a medium brown like her mother’s. Her breasts had gone up two-cup sizes since her weight gain. And they were her best feature in her opinion. The mole between them teased men into staring at her bosom instead of her face if she left her blouse unbuttoned. The belly fat, however, wasn’t as flattering. It was a modest bulge that poked out underneath her navel and drooped a bit over her panty line. Most of the weight gain settled in her hips and ass. Women were paying top dollar to have the caboose Lyric was saddled with since she turned thirteen. In her younger days her behind would turn the heads of men of all races. Now she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of shorts.

And then came her thighs. For years she never wore anything larger than a size eight. Lyric turned sideways. She complimented a size 14, and that was mostly thighs, hips, and ass. Still this body was not who she wanted to be. Disappointed, she reached for the towel and covered herself. Lyric left the bathroom. On her bed was her personal laptop. She didn’t dare go back for the one draining on her kitchen counter. She plopped down and opened the lid. Immediately it connected to the Wi-Fi. Lyric typed in ‘weight watchers’. The screen flipped over to the website. She began to read through the diet plans and testimonials. It even offered an iPhone app to download. Shania, her sorority sister, was now wearing a black bracelet on left wrist. She said it was a ‘fit-bit’ and tracked how many steps she took in a day. Steps? How could counting one’s steps equal to shedding pounds? Shania swore by it though, and Lyric needed to try something.

The healthier life starts here? Lyric read the ad banner at the top of the website. Lose weight with an easy, delectable plan.

She had passed the Georgia state bar exam on her first try, so she sure as hell could count calories. Lyric entered in her weight and height and discovered her point system for a week. Lyric blinked at the screen, which flashed acceptable meal plans and times of day she should eat. She’d also have to up her water intake. She was addicted to soda pop. Her family suffered from high blood pressure. Her last doctor visit revealed she was pre-diabetic. It was time to act.

The phone rang on her nightstand.

Hello? Lyric answered.

Why didn’t you call me back? Mya huffed.

Huh? Oh sorry. I was wet and—

Ed’s here! Hold on!

Wait! Lyric gasped.

Hi, Lyric, how are you? Edward asked.

Hi, Ed. I’m fine and you? Lyric said.

Good. Good. Look I need you to sign those documents and fax them back over. Want to get this done for you. Have you read over the contract?

Lyric hadn’t. She was a frickin attorney and hadn’t even bothered. Eddie was a gem, but so hen-pecked by her sister she knew he wouldn’t dare try anything shady.

Not yet. I will tonight, she answered.

Good. Great! Okay, get them to me in the morning so I can push forward. I’m excited for you, Lyric, he said.

Yeah, excited, she said.

Hello? Mya said.

Hey, I’m here, Lyric clicked through pictures of food that were low calorie points, and realized she wasn’t hungry anymore.

What are you doing? Did your electricity go out? Mya asked.

Not yet. Keeps blinking though.

Well make sure the alarm is on. And lock up. Okay? Mya said.

Yes, mother, Lyric chuckled.

I love you. Talk tomorrow. Bye!

Bye, Lyric hung up the phone. She bit down on her nail. There were meetings for Weight Watchers members. The fee to register was only thirty-nine dollars, and then sixteen dollars a month. She could afford that. Lyric smiled. She had a meal plan, a new business, and a sister that loved her. She’d be alright. Thunder clapped and the lights blinked out. She rolled