Chapter 20
Outplayed
Thunder
Painting fucking sucked, but we’d finished the walls in the banquet center a few days later. After we’d cleaned up, we could have left, but no one wanted to admit defeat. There was a silent consensus to wait until the last possible minute in case our trap caught a rodent.
The brothers each took a chair in the room, and I sat sprawled in mine. Slate was lying next to me, motionless. If I hadn’t seen his stomach rise and fall, I might have thought he was dead.
“Slate’s dead, anyway, when Bear gets a hold of him,” Pretty chimed in, smacking his lips as he ate a bag of chips. We’d had lunch, and no one knew where Pretty was constantly getting the snacks from.
“Bookie didn’t do fucking shit as her Old Man.” Slate didn’t bother moving, keeping his eyes closed. “If I ask for her green bean casserole, I have to do at least one chore from her list.”
I wasn’t the only one who laughed at his predicament.
“Just wait until Liz wants something,” he scoffed, rolling his neck until he faced me.
“I already asked her what she wants.” It had gone as well as I had expected. She’d lived so long under the radar, she hadn’t thought about her desires. When she did, no matter how big or small, I’d make it happen for her.
Sabre’s phone rang as it sat on the table in front of him. Hitting the button, he brought it to his ear. “Hey, Mama.”
I tuned out. He wasn’t saying anything, and as long as I didn’t have to be involved, it wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t the only one, as a few of the brothers played on their phones. It wasn’t until Sabre sprang from his chair that I sat up straight, waiting for direction.
“Slow down and start from the beginning.” You would never have known from his tone that he was on alert.
“Who called you?” he asked Flo, nodding his head a few times as he listened to her.
“Okay. Let Op lead. He’ll know what to do.
” Sabre paused. “Don’t leave the main room and tell Kyle he’s on guard duty so that Dead is free. ”
What the fuck happened?
I was facing the front of the ballroom, and if someone had asked me, I wouldn’t have been able to describe it. Time stood still, and I could only hear the clicking of the battery-operated clock we’d pulled off the wall. Two shadows appeared at the front door of the banquet center.
No one moved, not even a shuffle, as the men opened the outside doors and entered the hallway.
I wanted to ask if anyone else was seeing the same thing I was, but I didn’t want to break the stillness in the room in case this was just my imagination playing tricks on me. I sucked in a breath, easing the tightness in my chest for a second.
The men stopped and looked around. When they caught our reflections in the glass, the first man opened the ballroom doors.
El Sombra Roja was here with his nephew.
I didn’t know what I had expected. When Diego Lopez had shown up at our gates, the consensus had been that he appeared to be a movie mobster.
The expensive threads that had never seen a speck of blood.
The way he’d drawn out the syllables of his words.
He’d been the butt of our jokes for at least two weeks after.
Alex Rodriguez was a cartel boss. His suit fit as if it had been tailor-made for him.
The lapels creased perfectly so that they lay flat on his chest and the sleeves ended precisely at his wrists.
A silver watch peeked out from underneath.
In my mind, I tried to de-age him, but when I got to what I thought might have been the man who dated my wife, my anger flared.
I wasn’t livid that they had a past. Nor was I upset about all the fucking bullshit he was putting Liz through now.
My imagination picked this moment to run rampant.
The first dinner he’d taken her to. An outing.
Liz pregnant with Peter. A family home, even though I knew that had never existed.
It made it worse when I tried to picture myself in the same situations and couldn’t.
I took a step forward, only to feel Slate grab my club cut from behind.
Sabre was in charge. Not me. Killing a cartel boss in Flo’s banquet center would definitely earn me a punishment.
“It blew up?” Sabre’s voice rose. “How far from the clubhouse?” He nodded a few times, his eyes never leaving our visitors.
“Alright, I’ll see you later.” He hung up, setting the phone back on the table in front of him.
“If you wanted to send a baby gift, you’re a little late,” Sabre sneered.
He shifted his stance, feet shoulder-width apart, as he crossed his arms over his chest.
My eyes hadn’t left them, but Alex’s nephew had slid a sliver dagger from somewhere. He placed the point in the middle of his thumb and twirled the dagger with his other hand. The recessed lighting bounced off the blade’s surface, sending bright colors around the room.
“Put it away.” The dagger instantly disappeared.
I recognized his voice from the phone call.
“Gift?” Alex’s voice commanded the room, and while we were used to dangerous men, this was something else. He was something else. This was the first time I doubted if I could win Liz’s affection if he was in the picture. I was a retired biker, and even then, I’d never held a position of power.
“A white box truck pulled up to our gates. The driver said he had a truck full of baby gifts, and if the prospect showed him where, he’d get it unloaded.”
“It blew.” He’d caught the tail end of the conversation. “Where’s the truck now?” Alex asked.
“Sitting on the road in front of the clubhouse. Fire department is on its way.”
This wasn’t a pissing match. Sabre was holding his own, but no one thought he was in control of the conversation. I quickly scanned the room. All eyes were on Alex when they should have been watching Sabre for any signs to move in.
“How’s Grace and… Junior… no, JR?”
A few growls slipped out, echoing off the exposed rafters in the ceiling.
“Fine.” The muscles in Sabre’s arms flexed. “Cut the shit. You’re not here to discuss blown-up baby goods.”
“No, sadly, I’m not.”
Alex pulled out the closest chair to him and sat down. He crossed his leg over his knee and then waved his arm, offering Sabre the seat directly across from him. Sabre didn’t move, and when Alex realized he wouldn’t take direction, he shrugged as if to say “suit yourself.”
“I’m here. We may as well discuss my terms for your surrender.” He said it so evenly, I had to ask myself if I had heard him correctly.
“You should ask Diego Lopez how our surrender worked out for him,” Sabre said. I wasn’t the only one who snickered.
“Cute.” Alex shifted in his chair, running his hand along the seam of his pant leg.
“The Lopezes are already wearing out their welcome.” He brought his hand up, running his fingers over his goatee, smoothing non-existent loose hairs.
“Diego would have been smarter to stay home. He was never bright.” Alex’s eyes met mine, the implication clear.
“It won’t be much longer until Peter dismantles Manny from the inside out.
Right? That’s the plan?” There were a few coughs in the room, but no one dared to say anything.
We had the numbers, but we also didn’t know how many more cartel members were nearby.
“Not bad for someone who’s lacking.” Sabre rubbed his knuckles against his president’s patch.
“You don’t concern yourself with my son.” Alex shifted his glare to me again. “If you think marrying her will stop the inevitable, you’re a fool.”
This wasn’t my role, but he’d brought me into the conversation.
I smirked, burying my insecurities. “My wife isn’t the same woman you once knew.
” I left it open, chuckling as if we were sharing a secret.
“If you think she’s going to take your shit, you’re the one who’s the fool.
” I didn’t need him to know she was afraid he’d swoop in and ruin everything.
“There’s one thing I’ll always have—her son.” Alex knocked his knuckles against the table before he stood. He aimed low, hitting his mark. “Tell mi amor I’ll see her soon.”
He walked towards the front door, his nephew following him, but before he stepped into the hallway, he turned around. “A truck loaded with utter absurdity wouldn’t be my choice for blowing up your clubhouse.” He smirked. “You’d be gone before you even knew what was happening.”
Sabre was the first to speak after our visitor had left. He shot me a look over his shoulder. “We need a family meeting. He’s not aware that Peter prospected for the club and that Pulse is dead. It might be the only reason we come out of this unscathed.”
My stomach curdled.
Family meeting—discussing the man who was actively plotting to steal my wife.