Chapter 13
DIESEL
What the ever-loving fuck does Martina think she’s doing? That must be her third margarita. Yeah, I’m the asshole who counts drinks. Worse, the prospect is drooling all over her.
“What the fuck is that prospect’s name?” I bark at Blood.
“Which one? We got about four here tonight.”
“The asshole behind the bar.”
“You mean the one who’s been hitting on Martina since she sat down?”
“Yeah, wiseass, that one.”
Smoke rises in his seat for a better look. “Oh, yeah, took him on two weeks ago. Where you been?”
“Working my ass off in the gym.” I throw Smoke a look, and he glares at me. I usually have mad respect for my prez, but watching this shit go on right in front of me is too much. “What’s his name?”
“Jared,” Blood says. “He came down here after the chop shop he was working for in Oceanside got raided. He ducked out, and ran his ass down here to Tijuana. Land of the Misfits.”
Blood and Smoke laugh at his joke, but I’m not finding anything funny right now.
Like a lot of guys, including myself, the prospect is hiding out in Tijuana. None of which we care about as long as he pours drinks and keeps his hands out of the register. So far, so good. It also doesn’t hurt that he is young, good-looking and keeps the female clientele happy.
I just don’t like that he’s keeping Martina happy.
“The guy can hot-wire anything. He’s already checked out our garage and made some improvements, but he’s laying low ‘cause he can’t chance getting arrested again.”
“Again?” I question.
Smoke shrugs. “He also had a shit-ton of parking violations and other priors.”
“So, he’s a fuckin’ criminal?”
Smoke and Blood cock their head at the exact same time. Fuckin’ annoying.
“Says the guy who ran his ass down here after beating the piss outta some Kansas City mobster.”
“Totally different.”
They both break up laughing, and I shoot them both a death glare.
“Don’t go giving us the fisheye just ‘cause he’s gonna get his dick wet tonight, and you’re not.”
Did Blood really have to put it that way?
“You’ve been acting like a pussy for the last week. Then you try to scratch that itch with Chantel, and when that don’t work out, you have her fired,” Smoke says. “Now, you’re sitting here bitchin’ and moaning and crying in your beer.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I fired Chantel ‘cause she was whoring herself out in the private rooms.” I point at Smoke. “Something you said you never wanted at The Tropics.” I point to my glass. “And this ain’t beer; it’s whiskey.”
“Okay, so you’re crying in your whiskey.”
“Bite me.”
“Maybe you oughta go over there and say that to her,” Blood teases.
I square my shoulders. “Maybe I will.”
“Better than sitting here listening to you bitchin’ like a little girl all night.”
“You don’t think I will?”
Blood digs his hand into his pocket. “Fifty bucks says if you did go over there, she’d shut you down quick.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Smoke slaps a fifty-dollar bill on the table.
“Fuck you both.” I push away from the table, stand and point to the money. “Get ready to lose your cash.”
I stand a few feet from the bar and watch Martina. She has her back to me, so I’ll have the advantage of surprise. Shit, she looks amazing in that dark blue dress exposing her entire back, which makes me wonder what the front looks like, but no matter what, I can’t come on too strong.
I’ll start off with generic conversation. Maybe even chat up Maxie about the gym. Act like I’m not interested and see how she reacts. Keep it cool. Don’t show my hand. Yeah, that’s the way I’ll play it.
Plan decided on, I casually stroll over to the end of the bar, and my fuckin’ head feels like it’s gonna explode. Martina and the asshole prospect are basically holding hands across the bar.
I stop just short of touching her back, lean in, and growl in her ear, “Let go of his fuckin’ hand, now.”
So much for playing it cool.
She stills, but she doesn’t startle. She barely reacts; however, Jared does. His eyes grow wide, and he drops her hand like it’s on fire.
I give him my best fuck you look, and he has the good sense to lower his gaze to the bar top. “Aren’t you supposed to be making drinks for all the customers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Maybe we’re not keeping you busy enough.” I glare at the kid. “So, since you got nothing better to do, I’m thinking it might be time for you to start cleaning out the shitter.”
Jared opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and clamps it shut, then scurries from behind the bar to the restrooms in the back hallway.
“Was that necessary?” Maxie asks. “You big bully.”
“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” I rest my hands on the bar, bracing Martina in on either side. “You gonna turn around and look at me?”
“Why should I?”
“‘Cause I’m asking you to.”
“Maybe if you ask her nicely,” Maxie teases.
I curl my lip at Maxie and practically snarl.
“Martina, will you please turn around—'cause if you don’t, I’mma spin you around and flip you over my damn shoulder.”
She slowly—too slowly—turns around. “Yes?”
“What are you doin’ here?”
She nods to Maxie and Marisol. “Having a drink with my girls. Is there something wrong with that?”
“And flirting with one of our prospects.”
“Is that against some kind of Royal Bastards’ code?” she asks, her voice sugary-sweet.
“And before you answer that,” Marisol interjects, “Martina just became a member of the Royal Harlots.”
I suck in a deep breath. “The prospect should’ve been doin’ his job, not trying to pick you up while ignoring his other customers.”
“I made sure there was enough coverage at the bar, so Jared could make us his only customers,” Marisol said. “Kind of like our own personal bartender for the night, until you started throwing your power around and ruining our fun.”
I’ve had enough of this back-and-forth bullshit. I know what I want, and I need to find out if Martina wants the same thing.
I lean into her ear, and a heavy hand hits my shoulder. I turn and face Blood directly behind me.
“He’s here. Time for business.”
Shit, of all the lousy luck. Leave it to that asshole Eduardo to cock-block me.
I straighten, then point my finger at Martina. “Don’t move.”
“Is that an order?” Martina asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Damn straight.”
I hear Marisol and Maxie laughing behind me, but I keep following Blood down the back hall toward the meeting room.
MARTINA
My phone buzzes as Marisol and Maxie laugh at Diesel’s actions.
“Oh my God, did he actually give you an order?”
I pull out the phone and read the message.
EDUARDO: I’m at the Tropics. Text you when I’m done.
I grip the phone tighter than necessary. My passport will be in my hands tonight.
“Everything all right?” Maxie looks at the phone, then back at me.
“Just those stupid spam messages.”
Even though it’s only been a few weeks, leaving these girls will be hard.
Maxie shakes her head. “I don’t know what got up Diesel’s ass. It’s not like he has any claim on you.”
I shove the phone back in my purse. “Claim on me?” I certainly didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”
“She means, it’s not like you and him have a thing,” Marisol tries to clarify. “I mean, you guys haven’t . . . or have you?”
“No, no, nothing even close.” Heat circles my neck, and I take a big gulp of my margarita. “I mean, that first night after I went up on stage, he took me into the private rooms, but he got interrupted, and nothing happened.”
“But later on, you stayed for the party, and you and him were getting pretty close on the couches.” Maxie waggles her eyebrows. “Looked like something was about to happen when you guys left.”
“We went up to his room, and I freaked out a bit and ended up sleeping on his couch.”
“What?” Marisol makes a face. “No way nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened.” I shift my gaze from side to side and lean in. “Although, I did see him in the shower.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Maxie flaps her arms around. “You saw him in the shower? How did that happen?”
“He left his bedroom door open, and when I heard the shower turn on, I—”
“So, you were spying on him?” Marisol grins and turns to Maxie. “This girl isn’t as sweet as she seems—and I love it.”
“How was the view in the shower?” Maxie grins.
“Amazing.” A little jolt shoots up my spine at the memory.
“What happened the next morning?” Marisol asks.
“The next morning, he cooked breakfast for me and—”
“Stop.” Marisol holds up her palm. “Nothing happened the night before, and the next morning he was cooking for you.”
I nod. “Then we just got talking about stuff. He told me about his exes and how and why he had to leave the States. It was really—”
“Girl, this is too weird,” Maxie interrupts. “You’re telling us Diesel cooked for you and opened up about his past to you.”
“Yeah, he was kind of sweet.”
“Sweet!” Maxie shouts. “Now I know you’re talking about somebody else.”
“No, really. Totally different than the alpha asshole who was just here. I actually thought we made a connection.”
“This is worse than I thought.” Maxie and Marisol exchange a look.
“What?”
“I just figured you had some hot sex and tore up the sheets ‘cause Diesel is usually ‘hit it and quit it.’” Marisol says. “And he’s never opened up to anyone. I doubt if Smoke or Blood know his whole backstory.”
“He’s totally into you,” Maxie adds. “I’ve worked with him in the gym for over a year, and I’ve never seen him react to anyone like he did just now.”
“He was so obnoxious. He acted like he could hardly stand me. Then ordering around poor Jared like he was a lowly servant, and demanding me to stay put.”
Marisol cocks her head. “As a prospect, Jared kinda is Diesel’s servant. He has to do whatever a member tells him if he wants to patch-in someday.”
“Still Diesel seemed pissed off at me mostly.”
“No, hon, that was Diesel staking his claim and telling Jared to back off. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care.” Maxie looks at Marisol, then back at me. “I’m guessing this is your first experience with an alpha male.”
I bite my lower lip. “My experience with men hasn’t been the best.”
“We can fix it, if that’s what you want.” Marisol grins.
I smile and play along, but there’s no future here or with Diesel, as long as Benito’s a threat.
“You are talking to two women well-versed in alpha-holes.” Maxie winks at Marisol. “I think we can help her with that, don’t you?”
“Absolutely, especially if he thinks he’s not going to have to work for it.”
“I have a feeling Diesel’s life is about to get complicated.”
“Very complicated,” Marisol agrees.