Chapter Ten
Max
Foster sets his tablet on the table, thumbs tapping. The screen flickers, and then there she is.
“It was all in good fun. I can’t believe we didn’t think about the camera,”
Lila says, laughing. But it’s wrong. Too high, too forced. Her hand curls around that bastard’s arm like she belongs there.
My jaw tightens.
“I know,”
Gumphrey answers, smirking as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“We still don’t know who posted it, but at least the world knows we like a little spice.”
The laugh that follows is like broken glass in my ears. Hers doesn’t sound real. His does.
“Yeah, but next time, let’s keep it someplace a bit more private,”
she says. There’s a smile on her lips, but her eyes…they’re dead.
“Alright, well, I guess that’s it. We just didn’t want people to freak out thinking I was in some sort of danger.”
They both laugh.
“However, if you’re in the Palm Springs area, come down to Casa Del Sol.”
She smiles again, brighter this time, but I see the tremor in it.
“Who knows, you may even get one of Lila’s tables,”
Gumphrey adds, his arm clamped around her shoulders like a damn chain.
“Tip well, my friends. She’s a hard worker.”
“Bye.”
The video cuts out.
Silence slams into the room, thick and choking. I can still hear the echo of her laugh…brittle, hollow. My hands curl into fists against my knees, nails biting into my palms, because I know that sound. I’ve heard it before. Women laughing while they’re cornered. Smiling because they’re scared.
I bite down on the urge to put my fist through the wall. Or through someone’s face.
Because whatever that video showed, I know one thing for damn sure.
That wasn’t her laugh.
“Well,”
Knuckles says.
“There you have it. Told you she was lying. Fucking bitches always trying to gain sympathy.”
It takes everything in me not to come out of my chair. My hands curl into fists, my pulse pounding in my ears. But I don’t move. I can’t. I’m already on thin ice with this club. One wrong move, one wrong word, and I’ll be out the gate for good. It’s the only reason I kept my mouth shut when Lila was here, asking for help.
A sharp thwack cuts through the silence.
Knuckles jerks forward, rubbing the back of his head. A shoe lies on the floor behind him.
“What the hell?”
He twists in his chair, scowling.
Sunny stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes blazing. Riley and Abby flank her, every inch of them radiating fury.
“Did you just hit me?”
Knuckles demands, disbelief dripping from his voice.
Sunny bends, slips off her other shoe, and hurls it at him. This time, he catches it midair, teeth bared.
“Control your woman, brother,”
he snaps at Bones.
But the second his eyes flick away, something else smacks into him…a baby bottle. Milk splatters down his cut. Riley glares at him, Asher balanced on her hip like a little general commanding an army.
Knuckles lurches to his feet.
“What the fuck? If anyone throws one more thing…”
A pair of sunglasses bounces off his shoulder. Abby smirks, hand still raised.
“That’s it,”
Knuckles snarls, taking a step forward.
“It wouldn’t be a very wise idea to threaten those women,”
Maverick says coolly, nodding toward Spike, Bones, and Tank.
All three men are already on their feet, shoulders squared, eyes locked on Knuckles like wolves circling prey.
The room holds its breath.
And for the first time since that cursed video played, I feel my lips twitch. Because Knuckles might not realize it yet, but he’s already lost.
Spike doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. One hard glare, and Knuckles drops back into his seat. The others follow, the scrape of chairs loud in the silence.
“What’s your plan?”
Riley asks, her voice steady, her eyes locked on her husband.
Spike leans back, trying for casual.
“Talking to me again, huh? Don’t have one.”
“Wrong answer.”
All three women turn in unison and walk out the door without another word.
“Fuck,”
Spike mutters, dragging a hand down his face.
“My wife won’t speak to me because of another fucking woman. And I didn’t even do anything.”
“That’s precisely why she won’t speak with you,”
Skip says. His tone is flat, his usual shit-eating grin nowhere in sight. For once, he looks just as pissed as the women.
The room sinks into uneasy silence. For all their power, their money, their guns…not one of these men has a clue what to do when the women turn their backs.
“Max,”
Skip says suddenly, his eyes narrowing on me.
“You looked at Lila like you might have feelings for her.”
“What?”
Knuckles barks out a laugh.
“We share fucking feelings now?”
Skip’s voice drops, cold as steel.
“You are on very thin ice with me, brother.”
Knuckles sneers.
“What the fuck are you gonna do?”
He shouldn’t ask that. None of us should. Skip may run his mouth, may crack jokes that get under your skin, but I’ve seen what that scary bastard is capable of when someone pushes him too far. It isn’t funny. It isn’t loud. It’s quiet, efficient, and bloody.
And Knuckles is too stupid to realize he’s a breath away from finding that out the hard way.
Skip leans forward, elbows on his knees, his voice so soft it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“What am I gonna do?”
he repeats, almost thoughtful.
“Nothing… unless you give me a reason. And trust me, brother, if you do give me one? You won’t see it coming. You won’t hear it. One second you’ll be running your mouth, and the next you’ll be choking on your own blood, wondering how fast it all went wrong.”
He smiles then, small and cold.
“So go ahead, Knuckles. Keep testing me. I’ll even let you pick the moment.”
Then his gaze shifts back to me, waiting.
“Well,”
I say slowly, choosing each word with care.
“I do feel a pull toward her. But she’s got a kid and a disabled brother depending on her. She doesn’t need my kind of trouble in her life. Why do you ask?”
Skip’s eyes narrow, his mouth twisting like he’s tasted something sour.
“First off, that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”
He leans forward, voice soft but sharp enough to gut me.
“She doesn’t need your trouble? Brother, life’s already handed her more trouble than most of us could handle. And yet she’s still standing. Still fighting. What she doesn’t need is another coward making excuses about why she isn’t worth the risk. You think pushing her away protects her? It doesn’t. It just tells her she was right not to trust anybody in the first place.”
The words sink in like knives, and the worst part is. I know he’s right.
“Doesn’t matter in the end, I guess,”
Skip says, leaning back in his chair like the conversation never touched him.
“You didn’t so much as speak up for her while she was here. I saw it in your eyes. You wanted to, but you didn’t. And now?”
He shrugs, casual as ever, but the bite is still there.
“Looks like she went and found her own way to fix everything. Might as well drop it and get back to the real problem at hand. The important stuff. Any updates for us, Prez?”
“Okay,”
Spike sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Let’s get this over with so I can go grovel to my wife. Cortez is in the wind. His orders are being passed down to Los Fantasmas, but no one’s seen him in person for weeks.”
“So, nothing’s changed then?”
Maverick asks.
“Same way he ran it with Muerte.”
“Except they’ve moved,”
Foster says.
My gut tightens.
“Don’t tell me.”
“In the past week, five young women have vanished,”
Spike says flatly.
“All in Palm Springs.”
“Why isn’t it on the news?”
Skip asks, voice sharp.
“Because they’re from Whispering Palms Trail,”
Foster answers.
Whispering Palms Trail. The stretch of downtown we warn tourists away from. Run-down houses. Families poorer than poor.
“The Shadows don’t keep up with Whispering Palms,”
Tank reminds us.
“We avoid that place, same as everyone else. If we’d had a team there, this might not have happened.”
“This isn’t on us, Tank,”
Spike says, but his voice isn’t as hard as it should be.
“Isn’t it?”
Tank fires back.
“The only reason Palm Springs is even on that asshole’s radar is because of how much control we’ve got here. And now women kids are gone while we sit around picking and choosing who’s worth protecting. What parts of this city are worth our time?”
The words hit like a gut punch. The room goes still.
“Just like we did with Lila,”
Skip adds, his voice low and dangerous, no hint of a smirk.
“What gives us that right? We swore to keep Palm Springs clean and safe, but when it comes down to it, we protect the ones we decide matter and turn away the ones who come begging for help. What a great fucking club we are.”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
“Fuck,”
Spike sighs.
“Alright, let’s fix this before it gets worse. Start patrolling Whispering. I want those streets clean and safe. Get another team to reach out to the families of the missing people; I’ll bet the cops swung by and left with no intention of coming back. And find Cortez. I want this city locked down before he can get through.”
“What if he’s already here?”
Crusher asks.
There’s a beat, then Maverick speaks up.
“I know a guy on Border Patrol who can pull security footage…the legal way.”
He gives a crooked half-smile just as Foster lifts a single finger.
“Can’t be too careful when it comes to the border. And we need you to stay out of jail.”
“I wouldn’t get caught,”
Foster says, shrugging.
“Not unless I wanted to.”
“Foster, I want you searching for those missing women,”
Spike says, glancing at his watch.
“So much for getting out of here quickly. Get comfortable, brothers. This is going to take a while. Start with Whispering. I need five men.”
Hours crawl by while we stitch a plan together. Maverick pulls the Border Patrol clips, and so far, there’s no sign of Cortez coming into Palm Springs. Foster thinks he’s found where the women might be; he sent the coordinates anonymously to the cops. We should know something any minute now.
“Uhm, I have news,”
Foster says, frowning at his screen.
“The women?”
Skip asks.
“Were they there?”
“Nope. Well, not those women,”
Foster answers, looking from Spike to Bones.
“Uhm! The women have been arrested. For assault.”
“Women?”
Bones blinks.
“What women?”
“Surely, you don’t mean…”
Spike starts, and then Foster turns his laptop so everyone can see. Three mugshots fill the screen: Riley, Abby, and Sunny, staring into the camera like they didn’t give a damn about the judge’s opinion. Not a shred of remorse on any of their faces.
“I fucking love those women,”
Skip bursts out, laughing.
“Let’s go find out who they bribed to watch the baby while they did our fucking job.”
“Foster,”
Spike calls as he moves for the door.
“Already working on their release,”
Foster says, grinning.
Come on, Max,”
Skip calls over his shoulder.
“Let’s go free the women who had your woman’s back.”
“Not my woman,”
I mutter, falling in step behind him with a sigh.
“Not your woman yet,”
he shoots back without missing a beat.
“If you’re anything like Spike and Bones, it’s only a matter of time. Or you can be like Tank and deny, deny, deny…and live a life of misery.”
The bastard grins as he says it, but I can feel the weight in his words all the same. And damn it if it doesn’t hit too close to home.