Ink: A Los Diablos MC Novella (Los Diablos Motorcycle Club)

Chapter Fourteen

Ink

S hooting the shit with my brothers was something present in every meeting, depending on the severity of things. Tonight, things were tense, but not so tense that jokes weren’t cracked in between the silences.

Loco sat at the head of the table, staring pointedly down into his whiskey glass, a pensive look on his face.

It gave everyone pause.

“Those hijos de puta are up to something,” he said finally, tapping his fingers against the table. “They’ve been too fucking quiet.”

“Three of their men have been buried,” Miguel, the VP of the club, tried to reason in that calm demeanor that always contrasted Loco’s. “Maybe they’re trying to find them.”

Loco shook his head. “Nah. Those bastardos know they’re dead and don’t give a fuck. They’re plotting something. We need to reach out to some of our contacts, see where they could be staying. Flush them out.”

“How long will that take?” I asked, arms crossed tightly against my chest. Every eye turned to me. I wasn’t one of the officers, but we all had equal say at the table.

“It takes however long it fucking takes,” Loco said, eyeing me steadily.

“Too fucking long,” I growled. “We should move faster.”

“Do you think they’ll go after your Vieja?” Miguel asked. His tone was much more pleasant than Loco’s. The levelheaded VP was always one to think first, instead of act. In that way he differed from Loco’s hotheadedness.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to take that chance.”

“If you’re so worried about your woman, why don’t you lock her up in your house? Get her barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen cooking for you.”

A flare of irritation swept through me at Loco’s nonchalant words. It showed how little he knew about my Vieja. She didn’t want kids yet, and neither did I. Sure, we played it close to the chest with our lack of protection every time we fucked, but she was on the pill.

Loco smirked before taking a swig of his drink and slamming the glass back down on the table.

“Lighten the fuck up. She beat three grown ass men with a bat and came out with little damage. She can hold her fucking own.”

“Yeah, but she shouldn’t have to. Club shit isn’t supposed to touch our families.”

But it somehow always did.

Loco was about to say something, but was interrupted when his phone rang. Usually, phones weren’t allowed in on church meetings, but as Loco was the prez, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with little consequences. But he also only kept it on for emergencies, and he most certainly didn’t answer if it wasn’t one.

But he did answer, pressing it to his ear.

He listened to whoever was on the other end of the line and let out a curse. I knew immediately when his eyes landed on me that something was wrong.

And that something had to do with Xiomara.

He hung up and stood. “We have to fucking roll out.” His eyes never once left mine.

I felt my heart trip through my chest. I didn’t want to think the worst, and yet I couldn’t stop the errant turn my thoughts took. The fear that sliced through my chest. A promise I made, broken, the pieces of it crumbling inside me like broken glass.

“What happened?”

“Shots fired at Devil’s Ink,” Loco explained. “The prospect’s dead and your Vieja…”

He didn’t get the rest of his sentence out. I was already moving, seeing red, something vicious awoken inside me as I rushed out to my bike and started it up.

My Vieja was fucking gone.

And whoever had taken her would fucking pay.