Chapter 10
NICOLETTA
After Bolt pulls into the lot behind The Tropics, he shuts off the engine and jerks his chin for me to get off. My feet no sooner hit the cracked blacktop than two other motorcycles rumble up alongside us with a very grim-faced Blood and Smoke.
The three men give each other a look only they can decipher, then herd me toward the back door. The scent of leather, motor oil and anger surround me on all sides.
Fear of the unknown, having a gun pressed to my head, and then a body at my feet twenty minutes ago hit me hard. I stumble slightly, and Bolt grabs me under the arm, easily moving me along like I weigh nothing. I’m powerless, and that frightens me more than the outcome.
We stand in the back hallway of the club, but even the pounding music from the main bar doesn’t quiet the ticking time bomb in my brain waiting for one or all of these brutal, savage men to explode.
Smoke turns to Bolt and orders, “Take her downstairs.”
Bolt’s eyes dart from Smoke to Blood and then land on me. “No,” he barks out the single word.
Blood steps to Bolt. “Are you defying your president’s orders?”
“I’m telling you I’m not doin’ it. You want it done—you do it.”
“Fuck!” Smoke slams his palm against the wall, and I swear the hallway shakes. “Chapel. Now.”
Smoke storms past me, and I almost expect to see a trail of fire. Bolt grabs my arm again, and this time, I don’t fight him. After the night I’ve had, there’s no fight left in me, plus where would I go?
I’m surrounded by three dangerous outlaws whose combined size triples mine. And even if I could evade them, I couldn’t go back to the States. My father’s goons would surely find me and make me pay for the death of their associate, or he’d just have the LAPD lock me up again and throw away the key.
Smoke takes his usual seat, with Blood on his right side. Bolt’s still holding my upper arm in a death grip as he steers me into a chair then hovers over me.
He glares down at me, and like in the alley, I feel exposed. My once sexy confidence instilled by the Harlots withers under Bolt’s damning expression.
He reaches into his cut and slaps the knife onto the table. “Talk,” he orders.
Words skitter through my head. All the sentences I should say, all the phrases I want to say but can’t quite get out.
Bolt slams his fist inches from the knife, and I jump.
“I said, talk.” His voice is rough, harsh and ragged.
“I never meant for it all to turn out this way.” I sigh heavily. “You have to believe me.”
“Ha!” Blood barks out the one word. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding us, bitch.”
Smoke leans into the table, his palms flat against the polished wood. His eyes are hard as stone, his voice low and menacing.
“I don’t wanna hear any excuses or any bullshit. I want you to start from the very beginning, with how you got this knife. No long drawn-out explanations, just the truth. You think you can do that?”
I nod once.
“And if you start lying, believe me, I’m gonna know.” Smoke shifts his gaze to Blood. “Then I’m gonna let him take you downstairs, and ain’t nobody gonna be able to save you.”
This time, Bolt remains silent.
“All right.” I draw in a deep, cleansing breath.
“I went to Brad’s Malibu beach house on Monday afternoon to tell him I’d be moving out, and when I got there, his front door was ajar.
Very unusual because Brad was anal about security.
I entered the house and immediately sensed something was off, since his car was in the driveway, but he wasn’t answering me when I called out to him. ”
I stare at the tabletop to avoid their glaring eyes.
“I checked out on the deck and thought it was odd that the slider was slightly ajar also. I went back into the house, checked the other rooms, then climbed the stairs to the bedroom.” I swallow, remembering the bloody scene.
“I entered the bedroom, and he was dead on the carpet, surrounded by blood.”
“And the knife was next to him?” Bolt asks.
I nod once. “Yes.”
Smoke slams his hand on the table. “You’re lying.”
“All right, all right.” How did he know? “The knife wasn’t next to him. My mother was holding the bloody knife in her hand.”
Smoke’s back arches. Blood leans in, and Bolt shuffles his feet.
“Your mother?”
“Yes, I’d found out the week before that she and Brad were having an affair.”
“Shit,” Blood mumbles. “Ballin’ the mother and daughter at the same time. And they say bikers are fucked up.”
“Then what?” Bolt asks.
“At the time, I was convinced my mother did it even though she denied it. Either way, I knew I had to get her and myself out of there, so I cleaned off the knife, wrapped it in a paper towel, and shoved it in my purse. Then I wiped down anything she might’ve touched and hustled her out the door.
“Can’t prove a crime without the murder weapon.” Smoke lights up a cigarette and drags deep. “Gotta say, if all this didn’t land in our laps, I’d be fuckin’ impressed.”
“When we were away from the house, I made plans for us to get out of the country.”
“One thing.” Blood crosses his arms over his chest. “How’d you get a ten-inch blade past airport security?”
“Pays to know people in high places.” I smirk. “A friend of mine has a private plane and numerous connections in the U.S. and Mexico.” I fix my gaze on Smoke. “You might’ve heard of her, Tamara Spindler.”
Smoke meets my gaze but doesn’t react.
“Spindler?” Bolt says. “Related to Eric Spindler, the hotel guy who owns a few sports teams?”
“The very same.”
“And she was able to get both you and your mother to Mexico?”
“Right now, my mother is raising her consciousness on the Baja Coast at the Rancho la Puerta Spa.”
“And you came to Tijuana,” Bolt adds. “Picked up an outlaw biker, got down and dirty with him, then decided to plant the murder weapon on him.”
“Even though my mother denied stabbing Brad, at the time, I was convinced she was guilty, and I would’ve done anything to protect her.”
Bolt nods but doesn’t reply.
“My opinion changed the night my father tried to hold me prisoner after he got me released on bail.” I hang my head. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard his conversation through the door of his study.”
“Do you know who he was talking to?” Smoke asks.
“I have an idea it was his friend, Stuart Hinchman, and it was obvious they knew who murdered Brad. Tonight, those guys basically confirmed it was them who stabbed him.”
“My guess is they were just looking for a way to get rid of him,” Bolt adds.
“Everything that came after I left my father’s house that night was unplanned.
I was as shocked as all of you when those guys started shooting at us out back.
” I raise my head and meet Bolt’s eyes. “I know you don’t believe me, and there’s no reason you should, but I’m sorry, and I wish I had told you about the knife sooner. ”
Bolt’s eyes soften for only a second, then he shifts his gaze to Smoke.
Smoke lets the moment drag out torturously slowly, stubbing out his cigarette, then folding his hands on the table.
Finally, he jerks his chin at Blood and Bolt, then nods to the door. I begin to stand with them, and he points at me.
“Sit.”
Like a trained dog, I snap back into the chair, eyes wide as I watch Bolt and Blood leave the room. Smoke manages and controls wild, threatening men, and they listen to him with no questions asked—so how does this land for me?
When the door eases shut behind them, he draws in a deep breath and exhales.
“I know a thing or two about being desperate and on the run,” Smoke begins. “I also know about survival, but what I absolutely hate is bullshit.”
“Everything I told you is the truth.”
“I know.” He clears his throat. “I also get why you lied, but it don’t change shit.”
“After tonight, there’s no going back to my father, or probably Los Angeles. You must understand that too.”
“Yeah, those guys looked as serious as a heart attack. They were more than willing to blow your brains all over that alley, but neither one of them will be in a position to bother you again.”
My eyes widen at Smoke’s pseudo admission.
I take a beat, then regroup. “You have my alliance from here on.”
“Hmmm.” He cocks his head like he’s actually thinking about it. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Everything I told you about taking down and damaging the reputations of my father and his associates will work, but you need me to pull it off.” I pause for effect. “Unless you plan on storming Riviera Country Club, but I can assure you won’t get past the front gate.”
“Ya know, I’ve seen some fucked-up shit in my life. I mean bad shit, stuff nobody should ever see, but when I see rich, privileged assholes trying to make a buck off the backs of innocents,” Smoke slowly shakes his head, “I gotta tell you, it riles me up.”
His low, soft voice disguises what I’m sure are his real feelings on the subject.
“I’m ashamed to call him my father, but we can’t control our parentage.”
“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.” Smoke looks off, and I really don’t want to know what memories he’s conjuring.
“Fact is . . .” I widen my eyes. “You need me.”
Smoke focuses on the tabletop, then up at me. “And Bolt?”
I shrug my answer.
“He’s had some bad breaks with women, and I’d hate to see him make another mistake.”
“And I’m a mistake?”
“Ohhhh shit, yeah, you’re a huge fuckin’ mistake, babe.”
“After all this, I don’t think we have much of a chance, but I am thinking about staying in Tijuana. The Harlots have told me about some clinics and women’s shelters in the city that could use my help.”
“Doin’ what?”
“I’m a social worker with a masters in psychology. I also speak fluent Spanish, so I really think I could do some good here.”
Smoke’s silver eyes bore into me. “No shit.”
“No shit,” I throw back at him.
“That will have to be put on hold until we get everything else ironed out. For now, you’re on lockdown, for your own protection.” Smoke breathes deep. “I want to go ahead with the original plan of setting up your father at the country club, but anything you work up has to go through me first.”
“I understand.”
Smoke nods to the knife still on the table. “That’s getting locked up in the safe.” He grins. “I have a feeling it’s going to play a very important role in our little setup.”
He stands, and I stand with him. “I appreciate you hearing me out.”
“One other thing. Tamara’s a good friend of yours, yeah?”
“The very best.”
“How much did she tell you about me and her?”
“Enough to know where to find the Royal Bastards when I came to Tijuana the first time.”
“Let’s keep all that between you and me. It was a couple years ago, and Marisol may look sweet, but she can have a wild hair when it comes to me and other women.”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
His lips curve into a sly smile, and I think I might just have something on an outlaw biker.
His face sobers. “Don’t count Bolt out too soon.”
I nod, but I know how this will go down. A man like Bolt needs to save face and will hate me lying to him all this time, plus invading his space and his privacy with a murder weapon.