Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
MALO
I drum my fingers on the bar in front of me, trying not to think too hard about the small bag waiting for me in my pocket.
I know there’s not a damn thing I can do with it without attracting the attention of the bar patrons or my brothers.
But I’m pissed. Pissed that today didn’t turn up anything more useful. Pissed that we haven’t been able to confirm that Las Rosas Negras are out of this city for good. That guy we found at the crackhouse, he might not even be working for them anymore, but he’s a reminder that their roots still run deep in this place. No matter how hard we’ve worked to clear them out, there are still people who sympathize with them. There are still people who are willing to play along with El Serpiente’s twisted games.
What’s it going to take to get rid of them for good? I fiddle with a placemat, tracing my finger over the lettering on it, trying to keep myself distracted, but I’ve already accepted it’s just a matter of time before I make use of what’s in my pocket. I’m just waiting for this place to clear out enough that I can get away without being caught. The last thing I want right now is to deal with the judgement of anyone else in the club, let alone Beast.
He’s been there for me through so much, and I already feel guilty keeping this from him. But, shit, I need something to take the edge off, and the few beers that seem to work for everyone else just don’t have the same effect anymore. To switch off the crippling guilt in my head, I have to rely on something heavier, and this is the only thing I can think of to make it happen. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is Harley beaten and broken, her underwear ripped to shreds. I need a break from my thoughts. A chance to get out of my head for a while.
I grab the vodka in front of me and toss it back, feeling the burn of it at the back of my throat. I’ve lost count of the number of drinks I’ve had tonight, and I don’t care to go adding them up. I should already be drunk, but my brain’s too chaotic right now to let the alcohol hit me the way I need it to.
Are the Rosas truly gone? It’s been weeks since we’ve had any real trouble from them, and there’s a part of me that can’t help but wonder if all of this has been for nothing. But there’s another part of me, that defensive, protective part of me, that knows it can’t be that easy—that someone like El Serpiente isn’t going to let go of what he sees as his territory without a real fight. I’ve got a feeling that the real fight is still making its way toward us, and I don’t know what the hell it’s going to look like when it arrives.
Fuck it. I get to my feet, stuffing my hand into my pocket and closing it around the bag there waiting for me. I glance around, making sure nobody is paying attention to me, and slip out to the back alleyway, where the guys usually go for a smoke after a few drinks.
But I’m not here for a cigarette. Much to my relief, it’s empty when I step out, no sign of anyone in either direction, the only sound the cars shooting past on the street beyond. I head down toward the dumpster and pull out the bag, tapping out a hefty line on the metal in front of me.
I stare down at it. Last chance to stop before you take the next step. I could just brush it away, dump the bag in the trash, pretend that it never even crossed my mind to come out here and do this, but I know, deep down, it’s not that easy. No, I need something to get my head out of the mess it’s been in today, and this is the only thing out there strong enough to make that happen.
I grab one of Beast’s cards from my wallet and start lining up the powder. I know he’d be fucking pissed if he saw me using something with his name on it to get my shit in order, but, if all things go to plan, he’s never going to know about it. I’m just going to take this hit, and that’s going to be the end of it, nothing more for either of us to worry about.
I clear my throat, glance around one more time, and am about to lean in to take the line when I hear footsteps coming from the alleyway beside me. I bolt upright again, head snapping around, sure I’ve been caught. I’m already coming up with a stack of excuses for whatever member of the club has just walked in on me, but instead of one of the burly bikers I expect to see, a young woman makes her way toward me instead.
I don’t recognize her, because damn, I’m sure I’d remember if I’d seen her before. She’s a knockout with chin-length black hair and deep brown eyes that seem to catch the light with golden flecks. She doesn’t look like she belongs in a dingy back alley like this.
She grins at me as she approaches, and my eyes trail up and down her body. She’s hot. Seriously hot. Long legs in cut-off shorts, a tight-fitting top that shows off every inch of her curves. She’s dressed like any one of the girls who hang around the bar, looking for whatever they can get from us, and normally, I wouldn’t given any of them a second glance. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at me, the way she’s making her way toward me, that has me stopping dead in my tracks. I shift my weight slightly so she can’t see the line I’ve made up on the dumpster. Though I doubt she’s exactly innocent to this kind of thing, I don’t want her to spot it.
“You mind if I join you?” she asks me, her voice low and sultry.
I shrug. “Join what?”
She reaches into the tiny bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. My gaze slides down to her hands, her fingers gliding over the lip of the pack as she slips one of the cigarettes between her lips. Grabbing a lighter, she lets the flame lick the end of the cigarette and then inhales deeply, she lets out a little cough and then breathes out a large plume of smoke that seems to wrap around the two of us.
She leans against the wall, eyes pinned on me, and I gaze back at her steadily. Normally, I wouldn’t even bother making conversation with the girls who hang around the Kings. They’re only looking for one thing, thinking they can handle all the danger that comes with being near us, but when it comes down to it, they don’t have a clue what they’re getting into.
She’s likely no different, but there’s an edge to her accent that interests me. Hispanic, I’m sure of it, though her English seems good enough.
“Where you from?” I ask her.
She grins. “Does it matter?” she retorts, tossing the question right back at me, shifting a little closer to me and closing the distance between us. I can smell her perfume, something sweet and bright, in between the puffs on her cigarette. She’s showing off a generous amount of cleavage in the top she wears, and it’s hard not to let my gaze wander.
Hell, it’s not as though she isn’t here for one thing and one thing only. Maybe she’s what I need to get my mind off everything, more than I need the line racked up on the dumpster behind me.
“You speak Spanish?” I ask her, using my native tongue. I half-expected her to frown at me in confusion and shake her head, cut me off before I can come out with anything else, but she nods.
“Yes, I sure do,” she replies in Spanish, with the confidence of a native speaker. Interesting. So she’s likely not from around here. That might explain why I haven’t seen her before. When did she get here? And what’s she doing spending her time hanging around a bar like the Hand when she could be anywhere else in this city?
“I like that,” I murmur, dropping my tone slightly, not paying much attention to the flood of questions that are presenting themselves at the back of my mind. Should I be more cautious? Yeah, probably. But right now, I’m feeling reckless. I want to lose myself to something, and it’s been way too long since I’ve let myself get distracted by a woman—let alone one as hot as this one.
“You do?” she replies, drawing her cigarette to her lips again, letting her mouth trace over the tip of it like she’s trying to tease me with it. Oh, she knows what she’s doing. I grin, slide a hand to her waist, and she arches her back, shifting herself toward me. Our bodies are almost pressed together now but not quite. I feel the heat coming off her in waves. I don’t know exactly why she’s decided that she wants me, but I don’t care. All that matters is that she’s here, she’s making it clear what she needs—and that she looks hot as fuck while she does it.
“Mhm,” I murmur, and my eyes drop down to her mouth. Those full lips, ripe like fruit, practically begging for me to sink my teeth into them. I can already feel myself stirring at the sight of her, and the line on the dumpster is all but forgotten. Not to mention the fact that getting caught with a woman is going to cause me far less trouble in the long run than getting caught snorting a line back here would.
“You want to tell me what else you like?” she asks as she finishes her cigarette, dropping it onto the ground and crushing it beneath the heel of her shoe.
“I guess I can think of a few things to start,” I say while looking at her. I watch a warm, pink flush appear on her cheeks as she considers all the possibilities.
“Why don’t you show me?” she replies, and I grin, pulling her roughly into me, listening to the way her breathing quickens as she feels me pressed against her.
“With pleasure,” I murmur back, and finally, I plant my mouth against hers for the first time.