The Golden Garza, page 1
License Notes
AZN26JAN00TRK2023
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by S. Ann Cole
All rights reserved.
Edited by: Lawrence Editing
Proofread by: Andrea Shacklee
Without limiting the rights under copyright(s) reserved, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Making or distributing copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
For permission requests, contact the publisher via email: authoranncole@gmail.com.
Visit my website at www.AnnCole.net
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Soleil
Chapter Two
Soleil
Chapter Three
Soleil
Chapter Four
Soleil
Chapter Five
Soleil
Chapter Six
Tripp
Chapter Seven
Soleil
Chapter Eight
Soleil
Chapter Nine
Tripp
Chapter Ten
Soleil
Chapter Eleven
Soleil
Chapter Twelve
Soleil
Chapter Thirteen
Tripp
Chapter Fourteen
Soleil
Chapter Fifteen
Soleil
Chapter Sixteen
Soleil
Chapter Seventeen
Tripp
Chapter Eighteen
Soleil
Chapter Nineteen
Soleil
Chapter Twenty
Soleil
Chapter Twenty-One
Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tripp
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tripp
Chapter Twenty-Four
Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tripp
Chapter Twenty-Six
Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tripp
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Soleil
Chapter Thirty
Tripp
Chapter Thirty-One
Tripp
Chapter Thirty-Two
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Three
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Four
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Five
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Six
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Soleil
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tripp
Soleil
Tripp
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QUICK INFORMATION GUIDE
(In case you are starting the series /with this book or have forgotten details from the previous books.)
The Family:
Father: Flavio Garza – Italian. Deceased. Used to be a famous poker tournament player.
Mother: Monica Garza – Jamaican. Biological mother of Tripp and Tillie Garza. Adoptive mother of Trent and True Garza.
Torin Garza – Oldest sibling. Born to a different mother in Colorado.
Trent and True Garza – Twins. Three years younger than Torin.
Tripp Garza – Middle child. Four years younger than True and Trent.
Tillie Garza – Last child. Two years younger than Tripp.
All of the Garza siblings are half Italian, half Black.
Red Cage Commando Security and Investigation Services:
Red Cage is family governed, but founded and owned by Torin Garza.
While Trent Garza, True Garza, and Tripp Garza are all vice presidents, Torin Garza has the last say.
Departments at Red Cage:
PID – Private Investigations Division
PSD – Private Security Division
SRD – Search and Rescue Division
ISD – Intensive Surveillance Division
CSD – Cyber Security Division
COD – Commando Operations Division
Branches:
Headquarters: Downtown LA.
Second Branch: Denver, Colorado
Covert Offices: Boston, Mexicali, Chicago, Washington DC, Miami.
Repeat Side Characters:
Reuben Grant - Vice President at Red Cage and right-hand man to Torin Garza. Pretty much considered a member of the Garza family.
Jules Grant – Reuben’s wife. Lyra’s best friend.
Guy – Head of Tech. The only man ever allowed in the room. The man who knows all and does all.
Stefano and Lorenzo Castello – Also known as the “Twins of Vegas.” They are blood-related cousins of the Garzas, but this fact is kept secret because the Castellos are cold-blooded criminals. (Quick fact: Monica used to date their father before she left him and got married to his brother, Flavio Garza.)
THEME SONG
Adore You by Harry Styles
CHAPTER ONE
“Some things are better left buried.”
Soleil
LOS ANGELES HEAT TRUMPS NEW York City heat. It’s the combination of dry and hot and cool all at once that seduces me.
New York’s heat is damp and miserable. Summers are suffocating, unbearable.
Then comes winter. Blisteringly cold.
Every cell, every tissue, every vein in my body rejects the gelidity of winter. They rebel by setting my skin on fire, burning like hot coals from the inside out all through those wet, white months.
New York is the city of my birth. Where I live, where I thrive. But it’s never felt like home. It’s the oddest thing—to feel like a stranger in the place that created you. To feel as though you’re always fighting to breathe, to belong.
Then, I’ll visit LA, and my heart, mind, body will come alive. Pulsing. Whispering, ‘This is it. This is you. This is where you should be.’
Suitcase in tow, I walk out of the terminal and smile up at the rich, blue sky. The glistening sun scorches my cheeks.
Glorious.
“I’m here, I’m here! Sunny!”
I whirl in the direction of her voice. Tillie Garza sprints along the pavement toward me with a sheet of paper in hand, her long, brown curls whipping behind her.
My smile morphs into a grin and I rush to her as fast as my suitcase allows.
“I wanted to be early,” she says as we crash into each other. Her arms lock tightly around me as mine do her. “But traffic sucked ass. Oh my god, it feels so good to hug you, biatch.”
Vibrating with excitement, I squeeze the life out of her. After thirteen months of not seeing each other in person, it feels good to hug her. “I love you, I love you.”
She breaks away and holds up the sheet of paper. “I wanted to be here on time so I could hold this up when you walk out.”
After reading the scribbled words, ‘Hottest piece of ass out of NYC’, I burst out laughing. “Well, I couldn’t be more thankful to LA traffic for saving me the embarrassment of this sign.”
She giggles. “My god, it’s so good to see you in the flesh.” She gives me another quick, tight hug. “If I knew you’d be out so fast, I wouldn’t have gone through all that parking mess. Hang tight. I’m gonna bring the car around.”
She jogs off, crossing the pedestrian walk, and I can’t stop smiling as I watch her go.
Tillie Garza is not just my best friend, she’s my only friend. Although we’re flung in opposite directions across the States, we connect every day, multiple times a day. Through lengthy phone calls, video calls, and text chats. We have a bond that’s utterly resistant to time and distance. And seeing her now, hugging her, is like sipping hot cocoa on a cold winter night.
“Quick change of plans,” she says some eighteen minutes later once we’re loaded up in her car and on the go. “We’re gonna have to stay at my brother’s for twenty-one business days.”
“That’s an oddly specific time frame,” I say with a laugh. “Why?”
“You remember those antique side tables you helped me pick out when I first got the house? Apparently, they were infested with bore beetles—or powder beetles, or whatever the hell. And now it has spread to my cabinets, floors, and other stuff in the house, leaving tiny holes and trails of powder everywhere. The house and furniture will be fumigated, and the damaged floors and kitchen cabinets will be sanded or replaced or something like that. I dunno, I only half-listened to the dude from the company I hired. But whatever they’re doing, it’s gonna take twenty-one business days.”
“Oh, yikes. That sucks.”
“I know, right? So annoying.”
“So, um, which of your brothers are we staying with again?”
; Please don’t say Tripp. Please don’t say Tripp. Please don’t say Tripp.
“Tripp.”
Shit. “Why him, though? He’s so much farther out from downtown. Won’t traffic be a pain? Didn’t Trent and True recently move to Pasadena?”
“Because Trent and Lexi have a newborn. If we stay there, we won’t be getting any sleep. True’s relationship is sorta new but also sorta on the rocks, which means they’re always either fucking or fighting. They’re exhausting to be around. Tor and Lyra’s place is humongous enough that we can be there and never see or hear them, but there still won’t be any privacy with all the ‘hidden’ security around. You won’t see them, but you’ll feel them. It’s weird,” she explains. “Tripp is the only one who’s still single and normal. Trust me, I’m not swell about getting up extra early to beat the traffic from Venice either, but he’s our best bet. Plus, he’s away on a job, so we’re good.”
Oh, he’s not here. Good, good. “When will he be back?”
“No idea. He’s only been gone a couple days and his international jobs usually take weeks, sometimes months, so we might even be out well before he gets back.”
That makes me relax a little.
I don’t dislike Tripp Garza. Quite the opposite, actually. But Tripp Garza is, well, not a fan of mine. And, admittedly, not without reason.
On a sigh infected with anxiety, I stick my head out the window and yell to the wind, “LA, LA, oh how I’ve missethed thee!”
Tillie cackles, ups the volume on the stereo, and we sing, dance, and vibe all the way to Venice.
~
“WOW, HE’S MADE a lot of changes to the courtyard,” I mutter as we haul my luggage through Tripp’s front yard.
The handful of times Tillie dragged me here, either for a family gathering or a quick visit, this courtyard was as far as I got. The last time I was here was around two years ago.
It was nice then, but it’s stunning now. More upscale. Gorgeous landscaping, lush green plants, fancy outdoor lighting, luxury seating, a cabana, and even a marble-paved firepit.
“Eh, he’s always remodeling,” Tillie says as she stops outside the front door to key us in. “It’ll probably have an entirely different look the next time you visit.”
Tripp’s house is a three-bedroom, two-story, contemporary-style home. I’ve spent more time than I wish to admit wondering what it’s like inside his head, so I’m anxious to be inside his house. In his space. Where he lives, breathes, sleeps.
By the time Tillie clears the alarm and walks in, I’m all but dancing with anticipation, but do my best to act normal and not like an obsessed weirdo as I trail her through the clean, ultra-contemporary space and up the stairs. The entire house smells like sea breeze and fresh laundry.
“There’s a bunch of crap piled up in the other guest bedroom downstairs, so for the time being, you’ll have to stay in his bedroom up here,” Tillie informs me as she stops outside the door at the top of the short hall. “I’m taking the room at the other end of the hall.”
What? “Uh, say what now?”
“I’m not sleeping on the bed where my brother has sex. It’s gross.”
“Then why should I sleep in it? You’re like a sister to me, which makes him like a brother to me, too.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Tillie, your brother can barely stand me. He wouldn’t want me in his room.”
“All the more reason to go in there.” She shoos me. “Go on, dig around and find something to blackmail him with. ‘Be nice to me or else.’” She turns and heads down the hall. “I’m gonna fix us something to eat. Have fun snooping.”
“Oh, dear god,” I groan under my breath.
Tillie has no clue that I’ve had a crush on her brother since the first time she introduced me to him. How awkward it would be to confess that. Like, ‘Hey, you’re my bestie and all, but I have fantasies of sitting on your brother’s face. Have you ever accidentally seen his dick? How big is it?’
I stare at the door in front of me. It’s not that I don’t want to sleep in Tripp’s room. Inside, I’m itching to bust through this door and rub his sheets and clothes all over my skin.
But, knowing how I feel about him, how curious I am about him, it feels…wrong. Like an utter and complete invasion of privacy. Because I won’t be able to stop myself from looking in places I shouldn’t, touching things I shouldn’t.
Like I’d done that night in Costa Rica…
He was passed out on the pool deck, and I was tipsy—even though I wasn’t alcohol-legal. He’d looked so beautiful, so insolent, so tempting.
He’d looked…like mine.
After ensuring no one was around, I’d crouched down and quietly—wrongly—lowered my mouth toward his. My lips were a hairsbreadth from his when his golden eyes snapped open, and he stopped me with his hand around my throat and shoved me back.
He’s steered clear of me since. As if I was some kind of predator. Hell, maybe I am. But it’s been six years and he’s yet to rat me out to Tillie, so I show my gratitude by giving him a wide berth as well.
I did wrong. I attempted to violate him, to take something he wasn’t offering.
And now I’m about to do it all over again.
With a wince, I turn the doorknob and walk in.
I’m expecting it to be dark and masculine—like he is—but it isn’t. It’s large and airy, with white and teal-green accents, wide windows that allow an abundance of natural light. From the double glass doors that lead out to the balcony, I can see splashes of purple and orange across the sky as the sun slowly sets. And farther beyond is a peek of the blue horizon.
The view from here is nice.
What a room to wake up in. To leave the balcony doors open and let the cool evening breeze flow in.
I drift around the room, dragging my fingertips across the furniture, opening his drawers and smelling his clothes, brushing the material against my skin.
At twenty-six, I should’ve outgrown this fascination with Tripp Garza by now. But here I am, sniffing his things like a creep.
Get a grip, Soleil. Grow up.
Shaking it off, I park my suitcases in the walk-in closet, then take a shower in the en suite bathroom, get dressed, and head downstairs.
Tillie is in the kitchen making tacos.
“I didn’t snoop,” I state as I hoist onto a barstool at the island.
Her scoff is disbelieving. “Eh, I’ll allow you to have your secrets since you’ve allowed me to have mine about X.”
Ah, X. The faceless on-again, off-again boyfriend she’s been in a secret sorta-kinda-maybe relationship with for the past six years. Or is it seven? I’ve lost track.
Although I know a lot of details about their relationship since I’m who she gushes or cries to about him, I have no clue who the mystery man is. At first, I was worried she was having an affair with a married man, but she’s sworn that’s not the case and I believe her. My girl is a bombshell; she’s not that desperate or treacherous.
“How long do you intend on keeping that sorta-kinda-maybe relationship a secret?”
“It’s…tricky.” She turns to the fridge. “What do you wanna drink?”
“What’s there?”
“Girl, we’re in Tripp’s house. The host in our family. Which means ‘what’s there’ is everything. Notice there are two fridges in here?”
“Wha—” I shift my gaze from one end of the kitchen to the next. Sure enough, there are two stainless-steel, double-door refrigerators. “What single man with no kids needs two refrigerators?”
“He likes to entertain,” Tillie says with a shrug. “Have you seen his pantry? It’s bigger than the guest room.”
“Your family never fails to surprise me,” I mutter through a laugh. “I’ll have a coconut water, then.”
She fetches a bottle and we eat tasty tacos and gab until darkness falls. There’s nothing we’re missing out on in each other’s lives because we yak like this every single day. Only now we get to do it in person.
We’ve never been able to visit each other for longer than a couple of days. But she’s been tagging me along on the Garzas’ annual family vacations in the Caribbean since I hit eighteen and no longer needed permission to travel. Those vacation trips would last about two weeks, so that’s usually the longest we spend together in person.
