Chapter 20
MARTINA
“Who are you?” A tall brunette with huge breasts glares at me unfazed and dressed in nothing but a G-string.
I push past her. “I need to see Eduardo.”
“He’s not here.” She slams her fists on her naked hips. “What do you want with him?”
I spy a man’s wallet and phone on the table. “It’s important.”
“I’ll let you know if it’s important or not.” Hard to pull off pompous when your tits are the size of honeydew melons.
“I know he’s here.” I nod to his belongings on the table. “Just tell him his sister’s here.”
“His sister?” She narrows her eyes. “He never told me he has a sister.”
I’ve dealt with my brother’s bimbos before, and he definitely has a type.
“I’m sure he hasn’t told you a lot of things about himself, and for that, I’m truly sorry, but right now, it’s urgent I talk to him.”
She throws me a glaring once-over, then yells out for Eduardo, followed by curses in Spanish that end in calling me a bitch.
At least my Spanish is improving.
A minute later, my brother appears from the bedroom, zipping up his jeans, looking like he hasn’t eaten, showered or slept in the last week.
His sunken eyes widen. “What are you doing here?”
I throw a look to Miss Naked and then to him.
He jerks his head toward the bedroom. “Give us a minute.”
“Why should I leave? This is my place.” She arches her back, and her immense tits sway. “She’s probably not even your sister.”
“Believe me, no one would lie about something like that,” I deadpan.
She throws me one more dirty look, then flounces off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Nice roommate.” I try to subdue the eye roll.
“She lets me stay here for free.”
“Of course she does. What line of shit did you tell her—maybe that you’re the mayor of San Diego?”
“Don’t be a wiseass.” He moves closer to me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you, but here we are, back in the shit, your usual place.”
He runs his hand through his tangled hair. “Did you come here to bust my balls, or what?”
“I came for my passport.” I hold out my hand like I expect him to comply.
“I told you, you’ll get it when you get some intel on the Bastards.”
“You can forget about that. The Bastards found out you’re my brother and accused me of working for Benito.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, and now they’re threatening me. Are you really going to put your own sister’s life in danger again?” Two could lie and play the guilt game.
“This is bad.”
“You’re telling me. You’ve gotta give me my passport now. I’ve gotta get out of Tijuana.”
“How’d they find out you were my sister? You must’ve screwed up.”
“I didn’t screw up anything. Maybe you shouldn’t have been bragging to Chantel at The Tropics about being Benito’s right-hand man, and how you had me working on the inside.”
“That fuckin’ bitch.”
“Shouldn’t do so much talking when you’re high—people listen.” The long shot worked. I saw him talking to Chantel the last time he was at The Tropics. Of course, Eduardo’s fried brain allowed me to fill in the blanks. “She told Smoke, and he came down on me—hard.”
I use his silence to up the ante. “Do you have any idea what the Royal Bastards do to people who double-cross them?”
“Probably the same as Benito and the cartel will do to me.”
“No, you said yourself, you got close with Benito. He takes you to meetings. He needs you.” Total freakin’ lie, but maybe Eduardo’s huge ego would take the bait.
“True, but . . .”
“So, you can explain it to him. You gotta help me; I’m desperate. Could you honestly go on knowing you had your sister beaten up or worse by the Royal Bastards?”
Eduardo bites his lower lip.
“After all, what’s more important, the health and welfare of your only sister, or Benito?” I was getting pretty good at this guilt thing. Should’ve used this on him years ago.
“Can’t believe that bitch Chantel ratted me out. l gave her a hundred bucks that night.”
Miss Naked barges out of the bedroom. “Who the fuck did you give a hundred bucks to?”
“Mind your own fuckin’ business.” Eduardo dismisses her with a wave of his hand.
“That’s my money you’re giving to some whore.” She lunges at Eduardo, and he pushes her off. “Shut the fuck up.”
He turns his back on her, and she launches herself forward, gripping his shoulders while pounding him with her fists—naked.
If I wasn’t so desperate, it would actually be funny.
He shakes her off, and she falls to the floor with a thud, then scrambles onto her hands and knees. “While I’m out spreading my legs for money, you’re giving it away to some whore.”
“She does have a point.”
Then Miss Naked starts spitting out rapid-fire Spanish punctuated by flying objects at Eduardo’s head.
“Just give me my passport,” I yell above the Spanish curses and the tchotchkes hitting the wall.
Eduardo edges around the room, bobbing and weaving.
“Give me what I want, I’ll leave, and you two can have wild monkey makeup sex.”
“Shit!” Eduardo ducks as a stiletto shoe barely misses his head, then escapes into the bedroom, returning a heartbeat later with my passport.
I grab it from him before he changes his mind, then he grabs Miss Naked from behind, pinning down her arms.
“You better get out of Tijuana now,” Eduardo warns as he spins Miss Naked in his arms. “‘Cause when Benito finds out you can’t help him with the Bastards, he’s gonna come looking for you.”
“Don’t worry. My next stop is Otay Mesa and over the border.” I tuck the passport into my leggings pocket.
By the time I reach the door, my brother has Miss Naked’s legs wrapped around his hips.
Typical Eduardo, the guy has nine thousand lives.
I slam the door behind me, make my way out of the building, through the throng of men and women crowding the street, and bump into two people I never expected to see again.
DIESEL
I leave The Tropics with one thing on my mind—finding Martina.
I throw my leg over my Harley and head for the Zona Norte. Between what I have to go on and our connections there, I have no doubt I’ll find Eduardo, who may know where Martina went.
I’m five minutes into the ride, and my cell buzzes with a call. I hit the button on my bike, and it sends the call into my earbuds.
“Yeah?”
“Diesel?”
“Who’s this?”
“Eduardo.” Long pause. “I don’t know if Martina told you, but I’m her brother.”
“Yeah, I know. I was just heading out to see you. You got any info on where she might be?”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna talk over the phone.” His voice lowers. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she’s in some deep shit with Benito, and she’s gonna need your help.”
“Is she with you now?”
“Look, I don’t wanna say too much. I think my phone is being bugged. Just come to my place, 200 Calle Coahuila, in the center of the street. You can’t miss it; it’s a pink building.”
“Of course it is.”
“Just get here quick.”
I consider going back to The Tropics for backup, but I don’t wanna waste the time. I also consider calling Smoke, but maybe I can get this done on my own, especially since it’s my fault she ran in the first place.
When I hit the Zona Norte, I have to slow down with all the people crowding the streets. Late afternoon, yet the place is packed like it’s midnight. College kids on Spring Break, businessmen, lowlifes and everything in between. Music and loud laughter pour out of the bars and onto the sidewalk.
Crime in this part of the city is crazy. Pickpockets, assault and annual murders top any other Mexican city. The Red-Light District in Tijuana is kinda like Disneyland for adults. Every kind of sex show, sex act or drug of choice could be found on this street and the surrounding streets.
Not surprising that Martina’s deadbeat brother would live here, but I sure didn’t like the idea of Martina coming here. And, yeah, I know she can defend herself, but I didn’t want her put in that position. My heart jacks up at the thought, so I concentrate on finding Eduardo’s building.
Finally, on the next block, I see a five-story pink building.
I pull in front and eyeball the place. Fuckin’ dump.
I’m not thrilled about leaving my bike on the street, so I pull to the corner and into the lot of a bar where we know the owner.
I give the kid in the kitchen fifty bucks to keep eyes on my bike, then walk the half block back to Eduardo’s building.
I elbow through the crowded sidewalk, then head to the back apartment he indicated. I raise my fist to knock on the door, and something heavy lands on my shoulder. I instinctively crouch and spin around to a fist in the gut, followed by a sharp blow to the back of my head.
I stagger forward, and I’m hit again, only harder, then everything fades to black.