11. Jaime
Chapter 11
Jaime
“ Y ou get anything back yet?” I ask, watching the video feed for the thousandth time on one phone while I talk on the other. “Can you identify them?”
“Three of them for sure are in Ghost Feretti’s crew.” Lewis pauses, and I hear clicking in the background. “Rocky Feretti, obviously. Boss’s kid. The other white guy is his cousin, Enzo. Tall Black guy with the fade is Jalen Dee, and I’m still trying to ID the last guy with the locs. I’ll run the facial rec again, see if anything comes up.”
“You think he’s new?”
“Or he’s just not local. Feretti’s got operations in Portland and Sacramento, so I’ll just widen my search.”
I pause the video, zooming in as I’ve done so many times, but I don’t have the tech to maintain the quality of the image this close up. That’s why I sent it in. “If Cal was shooting at Feretti’s kid, I’m surprised there hasn’t been blowback yet.”
“Feretti might not even know about this. I have a feeling Rocky and Cal are trying to set this up on their own,” says Lewis.
Well, that just ups the ante. There must be a lot of discontent across the board if the new generation is trying to do things without the blessing of the old. “That’s nuts. Whatever happened to loyalty?” I shake my head, trying to keep all the details clear. “I don’t see this ending well for anybody. Anyway, I should go. If anything important comes up, I’ll send it in.”
“Sounds good,” he says. “Listen, before you go—any ideas on how much longer they’ll have you on this job?”
“Cedro hasn’t said anything about pulling me out yet,” I reply. “It probably won’t be long, though. We know he’s not the most patient of men, and he has more than enough proof of Cal’s bullshit by now.”
Lewis chuckles. “I’m sure he does. He’s got himself the mole of all moles.”
We disconnect, and I switch phones to make my next call.
Leo picks up on the second ring. “Jaime. Qué onda?”
“Just checking in,” I say. “Any news? You think Cedro’s gonna move soon?”
He gives a soft laugh. “Why? You getting bored up there in the Hills? Thought you were enjoying yourself with Cal’s cute little wife.”
“She’s not his wife,” I say reflexively. Leo laughs again, and I close my eyes. He’s fucking with me and I fell right into it. “You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re having a nice time driving her all over the Bay,” he says. “She’s pretty.”
“You got eyes on me, huh?” My heart skips a beat at the thought of Maeve and me being watched. I’m usually the one doing the surveillance, but I suppose operations like this go layers deep.
“Of course,” he says. “Gotta protect our investment. But don’t worry—you’re doing good. Abuelito’s pleased as fuck with everything you’ve provided so far, especially that last video. There’s no doubt now that Cal’s double dipping and making nice with rival crews. Dario might not mind, but you know that shit don’t fly here.”
“I don’t know. Dario probably won’t like it either.” I’m thinking of last week when Cal’s uncle stopped by unexpectedly to have a sit-down with the guys about a new territory in Vegas. Cal tried to play it off, but he was visibly nervous when he realized who was down at the gate.
Leo and Cedro think Dario De Leon is soft on his sister’s kid because of how quickly he promoted Cal and the way he dotes on him, but from what I’ve seen he’s no pushover. I have a feeling that the second he finds out Cal’s been sneaking around behind his back, it’s going to be ugly. Not only will he feel betrayed, but he’ll be also pissed that Cal’s duplicity affects his long-standing relationship with the Oliveras family.
It seems so risky, but Callum is used to getting what he wants and not being held accountable when he fucks up. Even with Maeve—he just keeps pushing the envelope because she never gives him true consequences. He’s like a spoiled toddler whose behavior will keep getting worse until someone finally punishes him.
“Guess we’ll see,” says Leo. “Everything is good, though, right? Cal must still trust you if he lets you live in his house and hang with his girl all day long.”
“He does, but that could change any second. He knows he has enemies, and all that coke makes him paranoid.” Which is why I hope Cedro makes his move soon. The Oliveras family might have the motivation and resources to protect me, as do the Feds, but it won’t matter if they’re all too late.
“Just sit tight, okay?” Leo says. “Is that it? No new intel?”
“You’ll get it when I get it.”
“Good. Keep doing what you’ve been doing. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
He cuts the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I turn the a/c vent toward my face, trying to ignore the familiar feeling of unease that’s settled in the pit of my stomach. This is by far the most complicated job I’ve ever taken on. A job within a job … within a job. It gets trickier every day I have to remain in Cal’s employ. I’ll need to tread carefully going forward, assuring Cal of my loyalty while feeding just enough information to Leo to keep the Oliveras family satisfied. One wrong move and lives could be lost.
Including mine.
On Halloween, we head downtown for Quartz & Crystal’s costume party. It’s an annual event and apparently a big deal in Oakland’s party scene. I follow Griff’s G-Wagon around to the dedicated VIP parking area and pull in beside him, adjusting my trench coat. I’ve never been one for dressing up, so this is as extreme as it’s going to get.
Inside, the club has been transformed from its usual generic fanciness into a haunted graveyard. It’s pretty over-the-top, with fire dancers working the room and a live band playing on a round stage in the middle of the dance floor. Girls with faces painted like calaveras weave through the crowd with trays of champagne and cocktails.
After a while, I follow Cal the Devil and Maeve the Angel up to the VIP lounge on the mezzanine level, smirking as we ascend the stairs. Guess we’re not visiting the Pink Room tonight, not with innocent, little Maeve in attendance. Like the Pink Room, the VIP lounge is guarded by staff, offers bottle service, and has plush seating. The only difference is that it provides an elevated view of the dance floor below. And no one’s getting blow jobs. Not yet anyway.
It doesn’t take long for things to get crazy, though. Cal, Griff, Mac, and Roman are on a real bender tonight, ordering round after round of drinks, smoking, snorting a cocktail of coke and ketamine they call Calvin Klein . I keep my eye on them, making sure no one passes out, while also keeping tabs on Maeve, who, surprisingly, seems to be having an okay time.
Maeve isn’t the only girl dressed as an angel here, but she’s by far the prettiest one. Her costume has ballerina vibes, with a short, white tutu beneath her big, feathery wings. She’s got shimmery makeup all over her eyes, glitter everywhere, and her shiny, dark hair is loose, hanging down her back. Every once in a while, she leaves the VIP room to dance, and I always follow her, staying just close enough to help if necessary.
She’ll be fine here tonight, though. Not only is she connected to Cal’s family, but Quartz & Crystal also has great security. That Pink Room shootout was apparently both an anomaly and an inside job that was swiftly dealt with—so I don’t have to worry about any real threats. Just drunk, handsy guys and girls.
Maeve watches me when she dances, the demure smile gracing her lips an invitation we both know I can’t accept. She’s been drinking, but I know by now that she likes me. It’s obvious when we’re hanging out, even if she never really crosses the line.
Well, sometimes she comes close. Fixing my collar and shit, saying she likes my hair. I like her everything , but I keep that to myself. I’m juggling enough plates right now without adding a forbidden affair to the mix. I can look, though, and I do. I watch her spin and twirl, arms lifted on the smoky dance floor. When she’s not eye-fucking me, her eyes are closed, and she seems almost happy.
Cal and company are being their usual horny selves, flirting with anything in a skirt. Cal has enough decency to turn down the lap dances his friends are getting when Maeve’s around, but who knows what he does when she leaves the VIP lounge.
I’m sipping on a beer, watching the craziness below, when the cute blonde who’s been eyeing me all night finally struts over. I’ve been sending off a no-touch vibe, not wanting to be too distracted, but this girl is determined. Leaning against the glass balustrade, she blinks her big, blue eyes up at me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I allow a small smile, amused at her coyness. It’s an act, but I can see how it works for her.
“I’m Zoe,” she says, extending her hand. She’s dressed as a sexy vampire, right down to the drop of blood at the corner of her lips.
“Jaime,” I reply with a gentle handshake.
“How come you’re all by yourself over here?” she asks, wrapping her glossy red lips around her cocktail straw.
Without meaning to, I glance at Maeve. She’s tucked into Callum’s side, beneath his arm, but her eyes are on me. Like I knew they’d be. “I like the view.”
Zoe’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re one of those strong, silent types, huh?”
“That’s kind of a cliché, isn’t it?” I say, returning my gaze to her.
She hitches a shoulder. “Cliches exist for a reason.”
“Maybe.”
“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” she asks.
“Why d’you think that?”
“Because you’ve been fending off the girls all night. Well, except for her.” She laughs, tilting her head toward the couch where Maeve’s sitting. “But she’s obviously not yours, so …”
When my eyes find Maeve this time, she’s staring into space with a faint frown, seemingly lost to the world. Callum laughs uproariously, jostling her as he yells unintelligibly over the music, and she looks up at me. The sadness in her eyes reaches into my chest and squeezes. As if she has the right.
I can’t do this with you right now, Maeve.
“No, she’s not mine,” I agree. “Just a friend. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I can be your girlfriend tonight,” Zoe says, cocking her head.
“Why?” I ask, letting my gaze trail over her. She’s got a great body, just like all the girls here. “You could have any guy.”
“Because I like you. I like the way you look.” Suddenly she seems almost nervous, like she actually means what she’s saying. “You’re different than the other guys here. And you’ve got gorgeous hair.”
That makes me smile a little. I must be doing something right with my hair if Maeve and now this girl are complimenting me on it. “You, too.” I touch one of her shiny, blonde curls, imagining how it would look wrapped around my fist. I’m tired of abstaining.
“Yeah?” She grins, coming closer.
I nod. “I like curly hair.” I like long, dark, curly hair if we’re being specific, but that’s not in the cards for me tonight.
Zoe practically preens with pleasure, her blue eyes glowing as she presses a light kiss to my cheek. “I love this song. Dance with me?”
“Can’t. I’m on duty,” I say.
She pouts. “Are you a bodyguard or something?”
“Mhm.” I tilt my head toward an empty seating area nearby. “We can sit down, if you want.”
She does want. We sit and talk for a while, the conversation getting flirtier as things around us escalate. When I look up from Zoe, the guys are rowdier than ever and Maeve’s nowhere to be found. Alarm jolts through me as I stand and scan the room, wondering if I somehow missed her going downstairs.
Zoe chatters away at my side, her arm linked through mine, but I barely hear her. Somehow, this role I’ve taken on as Maeve’s protector has started to feel real and not knowing where she is has me on high alert. I’m about to peel Zoe off so I can check the dance floor when Maeve stumbles out of the bathroom at the far end of the mezzanine.
Our eyes meet, and then she makes a beeline for me. Shit. She’s obviously wasted, but if she’s doing coke again because she’s jealous or something, we’re going to have words. Also, her very possessive, very violent boyfriend is sitting feet away. Granted, he’s got his face in a bottle girl’s tits as she pours him another glass of champagne, but still. He doesn’t miss much, regardless of how high he is.
Fuck . I’m supposed to be focused on the job, keeping an eye on Cal and reporting back the shit I see, not playing games with Maeve. Getting emotionally involved with her is messy and stupid and it could compromise everything I’ve worked for.
And yet I can’t force myself to stop caring about her.
I watch warily as Maeve stops in front of me, more than a little unsteady. The strappy fuck-me heels she’s got on aren’t doing her any favors at this point. “I wanna dance, Jaime,” she demands, ignoring Zoe.
But Zoe doesn’t ignore her. “Then go dance,” she says primly, her grip on me tightening.
Maeve cuts a glance her way, her green cat’s eyes narrowed into slits. Before she can say something we’ll both regret, I look down at Zoe. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Zoe frowns, clearly put off. “Wait, what?”
“He’s my bodyguard,” Maeve says extra slowly, like the little blonde is mentally challenged. “It’s his job to keep his eyes on me , so go find?—”
“All right, all right. Let’s go.” Stepping between them, I take Maeve’s arm and steer her over to Callum. “I’m taking her downstairs, okay? She wants to dance.”
He waves me off, looking a little worse for wear himself. I guess Maeve isn’t the only one who overdid it tonight. Sighing inwardly, I turn and maneuver my wasted ballerina downstairs, keeping my arm around her waist so she doesn’t face plant. She smells like tequila.
“Jaime,” she whines, clutching me at the foot of the stairs. “Come dance with me.”
“Why are you so fucked up?” I glance around, hoping no one’s paying attention. Between Cal, his friends, and his Uncle Dario, this place is a minefield. “What did you do?”
“Just a little tequila,” she slurs.
“A little?” I ask dubiously.
“Okay, like two shots,” she amends. “And some lemon drops.”
“Did you do coke?”
“No,” she says, looking affronted as she smacks my arm. “Jeez. Just a little liquor, Dad . And I smoked. ”
Well, that explains things. “Mhm. Go dance.”
“Dance with me!”
“Your boyfriend would love that.”
“Fuck him! I don’t care,” she shouts over the music. “And neither does he!”
“Trust me,” I say, leading her to a relatively safe spot near the edge of the dance floor. “He cares.”