Chapter 7
7
S itting at my desk flipping through mountains of delivery invoices is not my idea of a good time. I’d hoped after eight weeks I would’ve gotten a system or at least hated it less, but no. Back in Cali I worked the strip clubs as an overseer. I’d step in when they needed extra muscle but most times I just made sure everything ran smooth. The secretary of the club took care of all the paperwork and I barely stepped foot in the office and I sure as shit never had to learn how to use this fuckin’ computer. Half the time I didn’t know what the damn thing was trying to tell me and more than once I was tempted to throw it through the goddamn door.
All in all, office work sucked balls.
Between learning the POS system on the computer, entering the orders and keeping up with the inventory, I stumbled upstairs to our rooms most nights with a damn headache. Another improvement we made was expanding the second floor. Now, Blood and I each had three rooms we could call our own.
At four in the afternoon, the lunch crowd had drifted off and the after-work night crowd hadn’t arrived yet. Aside from the locals we were attracting a good tourist trade. We were the newest place on the block. More upscale and less threatening to the visiting Americans who wanted to say they visited a strip joint in Tijuana. They got the atmosphere without having to worry about having something slipped in their drink or worse.
“So, what do you think?” Ricky strode into the office wearing his new leather cut. He turned his back to me showing off his prospect patch.
“Looks good, but wearing it is way more than just sayin’ you’re a prospect for the Royal Bastards, it’s proving it every fuckin’ day.”
“I know, and I plan to make you proud.”
My lips twitched into a smile at the kid’s excitement. I remember the day I got my patch. Proudest day ever, but it was more than pride. It was finally belonging to something. Finally being with people who cared if I lived or died.
My reflection made Ricky frown.
“I will prove myself. You can ask me to do anything and I will.”
“I believe you.”
I’d wanted that patch more than anything else in my life, but I managed to screw it up. Cause that’s what I do—fuck things up before somebody fucks it up for me. Dumb logic, but true.
Life proved to me there was no such thing as fate or karma. Life was just one long crapshoot. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost, and some people never broke even.
“Just make sure you protect that cut and your patches with your life. You also make sure all the shit jobs are done around here and anything else Blood and I ask you to do.”
“You got it, boss.” Ricky threw me a little salute and left the office.
It wasn’t easy getting Jameson to authorize a cut especially since they weren’t an actual chapter in Tijuana yet, but I didn’t back down. I pointed out to him that if he wanted us to do a job down here then we needed more than just Blood and me. In the end he grudgingly agreed and we got our first prospect.
I checked my phone, then drummed my pen against the wood desktop. The next meeting wouldn’t go so easy. As if reading my mind, Blood sauntered into my office.
“You see Ricky?” Blood sat in the chair opposite my desk. “He looks like a kid at Christmas.”
“Let’s just see if he can take the heat when he’s cleaning piss and puke in the shitter at two in the morning.”
Blood and I laughed cause we’d been there and done that shit more times than we cared to remember.
Blood checked his phone. “Sandoval should be here soon.”
“I’m actually surprised he waited this long to pounce.”
“Who knows how the fucker thinks.”
A minute later, a knock on the door, then Rico breezed into our office like he wasn’t about to shake us down for money.
Blood stood and came around to stand at my side and Sandoval took the chair.
Sandoval jerked his chin at Blood. “He have to be here?”
“Yeah, he does.”
I could sense Blood tensing next to me as we all sized each other up in a few seconds of tense silence.
“From what I hear The Tropics has become very popular. More popular than some of my other establishments on the Avenida.”
I spread my arms wide like I didn’t have a care in the world. “We’re doing all right.”
“I’d say more than all right, but I never have doubts when Americans invest in something. You have the money to spend to make the project profitable.”
Who the fuck was he kidding in his thousand dollar shoes and designer clothes? His outfit alone could probably feed half the people we employ .
“Why don’t we cut to the chase.” I leaned forward. “You came to shake us down, offer us protection, right?”
Sandoval huffed out a breath. “Another American trait—impatience.”
We stared at each other and Blood shifted alongside of me.
“You will find it is very important to have some form of protection in this part of Tijuana. People can get rowdy and crazy from too much tequila. Just two months ago the bar across the street suffered a terrible fire. The whole place burned to the ground.”
I noticed the building when we moved in. It still hadn’t been repaired and I guessed it probably never would if Sandoval had anything to do with it. His way of leaving it as an example for what happens when his rules are broken.
“Such a shame and all because they fell behind in their payments.”
“Yeah, a real shame.” He couldn’t honestly think we were falling for this bullshit. “How about if I offered you an alternative to protection.”
“An alternative?” Sandoval’s eyes narrowed.
“I know you need to move large quantities of artillery every month. I also know you can’t store it all in the same place in case you get raided. Plus, you like to use different locations to throw off the cops.”
“You seem to know a lot about my business.”
“I ran the same setup in Cali, but you already know that, so here’s what I’m offering. I got a crawl space under the bar only accessible through an opening at the back of the building behind the dumpsters. If you didn’t know it was there you’d never find it. Perfect storage place for items you want kept out of sight.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“You make the deal and the three of us will be the only ones who know about the crawl space or what’s in there.” I flattened my palms on the desktop. “We store your guns for free and we don’t pay protection.”
“I’ll have to think it over.” Sandoval pushed out of the chair. “I’ll be in touch.” He strode to the door without a backward glance.
When the office door slammed behind Sandoval, Blood pounced. “What the fuck was that, asking if I had to be here. Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“He’s just fronting, trying to push buttons.”
“I don’t trust the guy.”
“Neither do I, but that’s the beauty part. We lure him in, get him to store his guns here, then we ship them up to Cali. Show him who’s really running the show.”
“I hope you’re right.” Blood grunted, never a good sign. “Cause Rico is a little too slick for me.”
“He’s no different than any others we’ve come across over the years.” I had to get Blood on board, or at least squash his doubt.
“Sure, but up in Cali we had a whole club behind us, plus the other chapters.”
Blood’s sentence hung between us. “Right, but Tijuana gives us a chance to make our own rules, and maybe come out on top.”
“It’s the maybe part that fucks with me.”
Blood’s doubt and caution made us a good pair, but rules were meant to be broken especially by outlaw bikers in a place where rules didn’t apply.
S eeing my father walking through the bar on his way out of Smoke’s office unnerved me. Of course, we never made eye contact or any indication we knew each other, but my paranoia flared fearing somehow the other workers might suspect. I didn’t relax until I saw him leave the club .
I managed to do my job, and stay in my lane, and since the slightest slip could prove dangerous, I stayed in full character at all times. When Blood’s wide frame approached the bar, I kept my eyes on the glasses I was stocking.
He rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Marisol, we need to see you.”
My curiosity rose kicking up my anxiety. A condition I battled ever since my mother’s death. Of course, playing a part to take down two outlaw bikers didn’t help and now they were asking to see me privately immediately after my father left.
I folded the towel and left it on the bar, then made my way under the service bridge. I came around the bar and followed Blood to the back hallway. His overall size dwarfed my petite frame shaking my confidence until I reminded myself of my skills in Jiu Jitsu. Its teachings are designed to enable a smaller person to defend themselves against a larger, stronger opponent using leverage and technique. And yes, my skittish brain also recited mundane facts when stressed. A strange but calming mechanism that seemed to work.
Blood flung the office door open and motioned for me to enter. The big man didn’t waste words—making him daunting and scarily mysterious.
I entered the office with Blood close behind me literally breathing down my neck with Smoke in front of me leaning against his desk. Not fun.
“Did I do something wrong?” I forced myself to stay in character when what I really wanted to say was, “What the fuck is with all the drama—not necessary.”
Moment of truth. They were either going to fire me, give me a raise, or call me out on my true identity, then whisk me away for some form of biker torture.
“No.” Smoke crossed his muscled arms over his chest and my heart kicked up for another reason going from fast to double-time .
“Matter of fact, we’re very happy with everything you’ve been doing.” Smoke looked over my shoulder. “Right, Blood?”
Blood made a sound behind me. A mix between a grunt and a cough. Apparently, bikers had their own language.
“So happy we’d like you to take on some extra work.”
“Oh.” Totally not what I was expecting him to say.
“With extra pay, of course.” Smoke shifted his feet which drew my eyes to his legs and the perfect way his jeans hung on his narrow hips.
“Of course.” I threw out the words to distract myself from the sheer energy radiating off this man.
“Great, starting tomorrow you come in at four and you’ll be in the office until six, then you’ll go out on the floor and tend bar.”
“Okay.”
“You’re good with that?”
“Yes.”
“And like I said there’ll be an increase in your pay.”
“Thank you.” Screw the money. Now maybe I could see exactly what went down here and figure out the best way to take this dangerously gorgeous man to his knees.
Smoke’s eyes lingered on my breasts and I took it as a good thing. Tomorrow I’d make sure to wear a push-up bra because he was no different than any other man. Show them some tit and they were putty.
I didn’t normally engage in games when it came to men. I usually believed in being straightforward with them. Not that I’d had many experiences. My school breaks were spent at home at my father’s insistence and my days were spent studying to stay at the top of my class, also at my father’s insistence. Such a rigorous schedule left little time for dating.
Now my main focus revolved around exacting revenge and taking down the men who were responsible for my mother’s murder.
M arisol left the office and Blood turned to me. “I think she’s gonna work out.”
“She keys in the right codes, and never has a shortage at the end of the night.”
“She can juggle five or six customers at a time and doesn’t get rattled,” Blood added. “She’s either bartended before she came here or she’s just fuckin’ smart.”
“She picked it up pretty fast—maybe too fast?” I threw it out there for Blood’s reaction.
“What are you sayin’?”
“Something I can’t quite figure out.”
“As long as she does her job, I don’t give a shit, so don’t borrow trouble.” Blood plugged a cig between his lips and lit up. “And stay the fuck away from her.”
“Yeah, yeah.” But I couldn’t shake the slight gnawing in my gut, like something about the beautiful Marisol Marquez didn’t add up.