Chapter 13
NICOLETTA
I’m alone for the rest of the day except for a visit from Marisol loaded down with a garment bag filled with designer dresses from some of my favorites. We pick through them until we both agree on the best choice for the country club dinner.
She stays, and when Bolt isn’t back by dinner, she takes me down to the club’s kitchen and whips up more of those amazing fish tacos. The Tropics is officially open but still quiet at six o’clock, so we’re able to eat uninterrupted at one of the tables in the back of the club.
“Bolt really cares about you,” Marisol says.
“Maybe he did, but all that’s changed.” I lay down my taco.
“It may look that way, but I think it’s more him trying to protect himself.”
“From me?” I laugh around my words. “I’m hardly a threat.”
“For a guy like him, you are. Maybe he’s feeling things he’s never felt before, and that’s scaring him.”
At that precise moment, Bolt storms into the bar, scans the room, then his eyes land on me. He stalks over, and even Marisol puts down her taco. He stops at our table. “C’mon.”
I stare up at him, then shift my gaze to Marisol. “Doesn’t look too scared to me.”
I push away from the table, and Bolt leads me down the back hallway to their chapel. He keeps his distance, then swipes the keypad and nods for me to go in. The heavy door clicks closed behind us, sealing off any noise on the other side of the wall.
Bolt motions to the same seat I had during my interrogation. Only this time would be different—this time they need me.
Smoke stands at the head of the table, arms folded, watching me like he’s already made up his mind—daring me to prove I’m worthy of access to their sacred quarters.
Bolt doesn’t sit. He leans against the wall like he doesn’t want to get too close to me.
I focus on the diagram of the Riviera clubhouse spread across the table.
Smoke gestures to me. “Manny thought this would be useful.”
No buildup. No easing in.
Don’t ask me how he acquired such a detailed schematic, but in the few weeks I’ve known the Bastards, nothing seems impossible or out of their reach.
He’s blown up the illustration to include the main ballroom, where the event will take place.
I study it for a second, integrating the map with what I already know in my head.
I point to the entry gate. “Getting through here shouldn’t be a problem since I know all the guards.
” Then I trace my finger over the circular driveway and car port.
“This is the main entrance,” I tell them.
“Valet and security presence. More to keep the cars flowing than anything else. Guest check-in will be inside in the foyer.”
“And you have an invitation?” Smoke asks.
“My invitation was probably sent to my parents’ house, but that won’t be a problem either. I attend this function every year. Most years I volunteer in some capacity, so getting in shouldn’t be an issue.”
Blood and Smoke exchange a look, and I add, “Believe me, I’ve known most of these workers since I was five. The turnover is almost non-existent, and they are very loyal to the members. Some even look at the members’ children as their own.”
Smoke nods slightly. “So, you and Bolt get in the front door, but we still have to get everything set up behind the scene. I’m guessing these long-time workers all know each other and would spot an outsider on a dime.”
“Absolutely correct, except on a night like this when extra outside staff is hired to accommodate the crowds. Remember, there will be over five hundred people in that grand ballroom.”
“What about metal detectors?” Diesel asks.
“Because of the high-profile attendance of senators, congressmen, and the upper echelon of law enforcement, there will be a scan before we enter the main ballroom.” My eyes cut to Bolt. “So all hardware will have to stay here.”
Bolt opens his mouth to protest, but Smoke beats him to it. “I’m not doin’ this without protection.”
“You won’t have to. Remember, the rest of you will be behind the scenes.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you have in mind for us.” Blood laughs around his words.
Smoke leans closer to the diagram. “So how do we get in?”
“You don’t.” I smile, enjoying their confusion.
Silence.
Then Bolt’s voice cuts through, “So, what the fuck do they do?”
“This is where it gets interesting. You don’t get in as yourselves,” I say. “You get in as staff.”
“What kinda staff?” Blood asks.
“Catering.”
More silence.
“As I said, I’ve chaired this event and been involved in pulling together all different aspects of a gala this size together, and one of them is hiring the caterers.
We’ve used the same one for the past four years.
Security rotates the actual workers every event, but the agency they use is the same, and I’ve developed a relationship with the owner.
” I make eye contact with each of them, enjoying the power of my exclusive knowledge.
“If I ask him to hire some of my friends for the event, it shouldn’t be a problem. He always needs extra help, and that way, you’ll fit right in, and the regular staff won’t expect to know you. The caterers are automatically vetted and will give you the ID clearance you’ll need.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wear some dumb uniform.” Diesel pulls a face.
“No one questions people who look like they belong,” I add. “Most service staff go unnoticed by the patrons.”
“At least you won’t be tied into a tux that’ll probably feel like a straightjacket,” Bolt throws back at him.
“True,” I agree, but Bolt doesn’t make eye contact. “And about the tux, I spoke to Marisol yesterday, and she knows a shop right here in Tijuana that has designer tuxedos.”
“Of course she does.” Smoke rolls his eyes. “When it comes to clothing, men’s or women’s, my old lady is an expert.”
I turn my gaze to Bolt. “We’ll head over there later today.”
“Can’t wait.” Bolt frowns, and it’s the only emotion I’ve gotten out of him since whatever that was we did last night.
I focus back on the map of the country club. “The kitchen is in the center of all three ballrooms, but only the main ballroom, the one we’ll be in, has a stage equipped with a podium and a screen that descends from the ceiling.”
They hang on my every word, and although it’s empowering, it’s also daunting.
“The stage backs up to the pantry area of the kitchen, which will give you full access to the visual setup, along with an easy in and out. With all the people hustling around the kitchen, I don’t think it will be too difficult to disappear for the amount of time it takes to replace our flash drive with whatever they have. ”
I shift the layout around, turning it toward them. “There’s a control room behind the ballroom. Not obvious. Staff access only.”
Bolt pushes off the wall slightly. “And getting something else up there?”
I exhale. “That’s the tricky part.”
Smoke’s eyes narrow. “Locked down?”
“No one expects a problem there. The real security is out front—keeping the wrong people out, not watching the people already inside.” I point to a small area behind the stage.
“They run everything through a central system,” I explain.
“Presentations, slides, videos—it all feeds onto that screen. Sometimes multiple screens depending on the size of the affair.”
“That’s what we need,” Smoke says. “That’s where it hits.”
“Once something is up there . . .” I cock my head.
“You make it sound easy.” Blood’s skepticism flavors his words.
“Not easy, but definitely doable.”
“She’s right.” Manny looks up from his laptop.
“As long as I’m able to locate the switcher, which should be in that room, it’s just a matter of replacing their media with ours.
I assume they use a GoStream Deck, which supports USB 2.
0, but a standard flash drive, like the one we have, can also be used with a USB-C to USB-A adapter for loading media. ”
We all stare at Manny like he’s just spoken a foreign language, but he’s already refocused on his laptop.
Smoke nods to Manny. “Obviously, that’s gonna be your job.”
Manny looks up again. “You guys just make sure no one interferes.”
Silence settles. This is the point of no return. I can see them all mentally doing the timeline.
Knowing nothing about the outlaw biker world, it amazes me how focused and on-point they are—one-minded and loyal to each other. It’s obvious this isn’t their first synchronized mission, and their attention to detail is comforting.
“We’re not storming the castle.” Smoke gazes at each of them. “We’re entering freely with a well-thought-out plan of attack.”
“You get one shot,” Smoke says to Manny.
I shift my feet. “If anything goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” Bolt cuts in.
“If anything goes wrong,” I repeat, eyes on Bolt, “you don’t just lose the footage.” My voice drops. “You could lose your lives. If there’s a security breach at this level, the men protecting the government officials won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”
Diesel shrugs. “We’ve all looked down the barrel of a gun before.”
“Only this time, there won’t be any hesitation on the other side. It’ll be shoot-to-kill—especially in this political climate.”
Bolt’s eyes are riveted to me, and I can’t decide if he’s seeing someone different or seeing me for the first time.
Smoke leans his palms on the table. “And your father?”
My jaw tightens slightly. “He’ll be on stage. After all, he is the recipient of the Humanitarian Award this year,” I say with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Front and center. Where he feels safest.”
“How do you already know the name of the award?” Blood asks.
“Because every year, someone from Riviera Country Club gets the Humanitarian Award.”
“Humanitarian?” Smoke growls. “What a bunch of bullshit.”
“Yeah, I have a feeling all those girls we took to the women’s shelter don’t feel he’s worthy,” Blood adds.
“Being worthy and getting an award don’t usually go hand in hand,” I say dryly.
Smoke leans back, considering. “And you think you can let this all go down without having second thoughts?”
Smoke’s question brings all my feelings to the surface.
“No second thoughts. Not for a man who can have people killed in cold blood, try to set up his wife and daughter for murder, then send professional shooters to keep me quiet. But, worst of all, use innocent, desperate women for his own personal gain.”
My words radiate off all of them. Each of them have their own silent reaction.
I exhale sharply. “So, yeah, I’m good.” Again, the pain of knowing this man is my father hits hard. “We can’t let him control the narrative anymore,” I add. “He’s been spinning his perfect, orderly life for far too long.”
Bolt’s gaze sharpens on me, watching me closely. “You’ve thought this through.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ve lived in it, never realizing the horror of his life, and now it’s time to right those wrongs.”
Diesel crosses his arms over his chest. “If this all goes down right—”
I cut him off. “My father and his accomplices will finally get what they deserve.”
Smoke taps the table once. “Timing,” he says.
I point to the stage area. “After all the boring speeches, they’ll announce my father as the award winner. After he receives the award, he’ll thank everyone, then they play the video of what everyone will think are all his good deeds.”
A sly smile plays on Smoke’s lips. “With everyone waiting and watching.”
I glance between Smoke and Bolt. “People won’t understand what they’re seeing at first. Then they will. And once they do…” I shake my head slightly, “…they won’t be able to unsee it.”
“With all the top cops there, he’ll be led off in cuffs,” Blood says.
Smoke nods slowly. “I want the rest of you out of there way before this asshole gets his award.”
Blood nods. “Right, Boss.”
Smoke looks at Bolt. “It will be up to you to get you both outta there.”
Bolt’s eyes rest on me. “I’d like her outta their way before the video starts.”
“Oh, no, I plan on being up front and center. No way I’m missing the look on my father’s face.”
Bolt’s head tilts slightly. “You sure about that?”
Smoke doesn’t look away from me. “I get it.” A beat. “If something shifts—she’ll see it first.”
Bolt studies me for a long second. “You freeze,” he says quietly, “this goes sideways real fast.”
I turn to face him. “I won’t.”
“Alright.”
Smoke straightens. Decision made.
“Clean. Quiet. Controlled.” I add, almost under my breath, “—Until it’s not.”
Smoke taps the table one last time. “We hit him where it hurts.”
My eyes flick to the map. “His reputation will never recover, and to a man like my father—that will be worse than death.”
Bolt’s gaze sears through me. Not questioning it anymore. Not doubting.
“Let’s fuckin’ get this done.” Bolt shoves his fist over the center of the table. The others follow, and I step back.
Smoke jerks his chin at me. I hesitate, then join them.
“Club First. Respect and Honor,” Smokes says, and we all tap fists.