“Finally,” Marco addressed us from across the room. “The whores are here. Come in girls. Shit, they didn’t say they were sending a blonde over, but I’ll take it.”

Marco put his cards down on the table, picked up a handgun, and began to walk toward us blowing out a cloud of cigar smoke. He looked as if like he’d been drinking for hours and couldn’t walk in a straight line if he had to.

I felt my heart begin to race.

Amanda didn’t know the details of Marco’s ruthless background, but even she froze up when she saw his gun, her shoulders tensed. Clearly this was not going to be the easy weed pick-up that we were expecting. I cleared my throat to speak. “Whores? I’m sorry. You must have us confused with someone else.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he boomed. “We don’t hire prostitutes to fucking play games with me all night. We hire them to party.”

Marco had deep set eyes and a scar on the right side of his forehead that made him look like a gangster out of a Scorsese mobster flick. I’d seen his ugly face in countless photos taken by various undercover agents, but never in the flesh. Marco didn’t surface much in public. He wasn’t at the tippy top of the agency's list of people to capture, but he was pretty high up there, a few dozen spots behind his brother. The reason we hadn’t gone after him as hard as Luis was that we figured if we were to nab Marco, Luis could easily find a replacement for him. And whoever that replacement was could be much more violent than Marco, who had a reputation as a man of simple vices: booze and women.

"Hired girls? I’m not sure what you’re talking about. We're just here to see Casey.” I held onto my smile like a poker face in spite of the pit that had formed in my stomach as Marco waved the gun around.

“We just want to buy some weed.” Amanda added. “I’m friends with Casey and—”

"Casey,” Marco paused, and stared us down with his dark brown eyes. He spoke grammatically perfect English with a slight hint of a Spanish speaking accent. “is not here. And I’ve never seen you two in my life. So I'm going to need to see some fucking I.D. Or else you will be our whores for the night.”

I staved off a shudder. "I.D.? Why do you need to see our I.D.? It’s not like we need to be twenty-one to buy weed," I gave Marco a confused-girl baby-face.

He brushed my hair behind my ears with the nozzle of the gun and burst out in a hearty laugh. It was a little awkward, but we managed a chuckle as well—albeit a forced one.

“Did you hear that, boys?” Marco said, turning to the dark corner of the room where the poker game is. “We have a comedian on our hands here. She thinks I’m carding her because she’s underage.” The men hooted and hollered, shouting at us in a combination of English and Spanish.

I was one step from panic mode. I did my best to channel my inner Alexa.

“You see mi amor, you’ve stumbled into the lion’s den, and I do not know who you are,” Marco narrowed his eyes, stared at me and then at Amanda. “Our dumbfuck doorman Pablo should not have let you in here. For all we know, you could be undercover cops. ‘Friends of Casey looking for weed?’” Marco makes air quotes. “That seems like a fucking made up excuse to me. How the fuck should I know who you are? Casey hasn’t told me anything. So that is why I need to see some fucking I.D. Please do not make me ask you again.”

I did my best not to tremble. The minute I were to hand over my I.D., Dr. Eva Napleton would come up on a Google search with connections to the DEA. At that point, I would be about as good as dead.

I made a mental note to tell the DEA H.R. department to make me disappear on Google. A little late for you Eva, don’t you think?

Trembling, Amanda reached into her purse and pulled out her I.D.

Marco snatched it. “Amanda Rogers. 21 Salizar St., Claremesa East. Search it.”

My heart thumped and I fumbled around in my purse, pretending to look around for a license I knew I couldn’t show him. This is happening. For Real.

“I’m waiting for you, pretty one,” Marco said, unsmiling, cigar in one hand, gun in the other, smelling like aged whisky. I sent signals to my brain to come up with something good. Right. Now. Come on synapses, fire!

I had nothing.

“Looks like you need to clean out your damn purse,” Marco taunted as I stalled. “Though I’m not surprised. Most whores are quite unorganized.”

“There are about forty-five results for Amanda Rogers, Jefe. I have no idea which one is hers,” A high sounding male voice says from the corner.

“Fucking idiot. Search the address,” Marco says.

Another voice at the table spoke. “Marco, why are you giving these girls a hard time?” I froze, recognizing the deep timber of the voice immediately.

Corbin. Effing. Young.

Corbin stood up from his seat at the poker table. He was wearing Ray Bans, dark jeans, and a white t-shirt with a deep v-neck that his chest tattoos popped out of.

A tingle ran down my spine as he swaggered over to us. He stopped right in front of me with a smug look on his face. I could see the reflection of my blue tank top and white pants in Corbin’s Ray Bans.

“You know these girls, cabrón?” Marco asked confusedly. I held back my utter shock, and prayed that Corbin wouldn’t out me.

Ned’s words lingered in my mind. Corbin Young is unpredictable as all hell. That’s why we want you to go undercover with him: to keep him under control.

I was learning that controlling Corbin was going to be about as effective as herding a pride of wild lions.

“What are the odds,” Corbin said, raising his sunglasses and revealing his deep blue eyes. He leaned in so he was inches from my body. His smell and even his breath reminded me of what we’d done for hours that night in my hotel room.

“Marco, there’s no need to I.D. this bitch,” Corbin said nonchalantly.

“And why the fuck not?” Marco scowled. Corbin looked me in the eye for a moment before he turned back to Marco.

“I brought this whore home a few weeks ago in Tijuana. Made her mine.” Corbin ran the back of his hand along my hair, tracing the same path that Marco had made with his gun. I straightened my back and stood silent, clenching my jaw. Amanda’s eyes widened, though her mouth was closed.

“Her name’s Alexa. We ain’t gotta worry about her. She’s not hired help—she’s even better. Just a little drug groupie puta. And her friend—” Corbin nodded in Amanda’s direction. “That’s the girl my brother took home that one night.”

Marco broke into a smile. “You slept with her, and you didn’t even know she was coming in here?”

Corbin put his hand on Marco’s back. “Told you I haven’t lost it. How the hell am I supposed to keep track of all the girls in San Diego with beautiful booties that my brother and I take home?” Corbin cocked his head and darted his eyes to me with a smirk.

Marco scratched his head with the nozzle of the gun. “No shit. You’d have to list off half the town!” The guys at the poker table got a kick out of that one and broke into laughter again.

“That mocha skin and those slightly darker features—She’s a rare specimen. You have Mexican blood in you, I can tell. But there’s something else too,” Marco said.

“My dad is Irish and my mom is part Mexican. I like to say I’m ‘Mirish.’” I performed a weird movement resembling a curtsy. I had no idea why.

Marco tucked the gun back into his waistband. “Well shit. Forget about the I.D. thing, Alexa. Corbin’s word is gold. And I gotta ask, Corbin. Can I try her?”

I gulped. Did he just say ‘try me?’ Like I’m a damn cocktail?

Corbin laughed. “Maybe later, Marco. Tonight, she’s mine again. Isn’t that right. Mi amor.” He said the words in a mocking tone, and then slid his hand down my side until his palm landed on the back pocket of my white pants and cupped my ass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marco’s vision dart to where Corbin’s hand was touching me.

Marco took a puff of his cigar and blew out the smoke, shaking his head. “Of course, the Young brothers would have a monopoly on the prettiest girls of the night.” Turning to Corbin, he continued. “You’ll have to show me where you get girls like this sometime.”

“How he got me?” I said, a little taken aback. Why is it always the guy going after the girl? “Oh, please, Corbin didn’t have any special—”

In the middle of my sentence, Corbin pulled my body into his and covered my lips with his own. One of his hands gripped my hips and pulled me into him. As infuriated as I was, electricity coursed from Corbin’s body through mine when he touched me. I reciprocated the kiss with passionate anger bubbling inside me. I dug my nails in to Corbin’s back through his shirt. Why did this asshole get me so fired up?

And so turned on.

Corbin let me go and turned toward Marco. “The problem with this one is she just doesn’t know when to keep her fucking mouth shut.”

“Isn’t that the truth about the pretty ones, cabrón?” Marco said, smiling broadly at me and rubbing his hand on his gun. “Alexa, you are lucky to be the property of such a powerful man. Or else, who knows what would become of you.”

A solid percentage of my brain wanted to slap Corbin Young, the arrogant pig. How dare he!? Touching me, kissing me at will. His property?

And then, of course there was the other part of me: the part that wanted him to jump right back on top of me.

Why on earth do I want him so badly?

Amanda and I’s proposed senior thesis was so spot on. The bigger the asshole, the more I wanted him.

“So what did you girls come in here for any way?” Corbin said. “Jesus, we’ve gotten off topic. Some weed, was it?”

Amanda nodded. It was weird seeing her so much more timid than her normal confident lawyer self.

“Douglass,” Corbin motioned toward the poker table. “Weigh her out an ounce.”

“Give her the special groupie price,” Marco added.

“What’s the special groupie price?” Amanda asked.

One of the men at the table tossed a plastic bag of weed at Corbin. He caught it and handed it to Amanda.

“It means you just have to go enjoy one drink at the bar, before you leave, and the weed is free,” Marco said. “Just don’t forget to grab that drink. Because if we have time we might even join you, if we finish this game soon.”

“Seems like an odd system,” I retorted with a little bit of attitude.

I turned to go but I felt a slap on my rear as I was leaving. I flinched and wheeled around. All the guys at the table were laughing. Corbin and Marco stood equidistant from me, so it could have been either one of them. Corbin winked.

“Good to run into you again, Alexa. Run along now. Man talk,” Corbin growled, an gave me another pat.

I managed to smile on the outside despite how hot my blood boiled on the inside.

* * *

“We should get out of this bar, don’t you think?” Amanda said as soon as we were back in the main area. The song Should I Stay or Should I Go played over the loud noise of the bar as the evening crowd rolled in. “That was too crazy. The way Marco was waving the gun around, it was like a scene out of my worst nightmares. Let’s go. I don’t think this one more drink thing is a good idea.”

I was about to open my mouth to agree with her, but as if on cue, a very tall, sandy-blonde haired man walked into the room. Heads turned as the man walked past the crowd, especially given that he was a full six inches taller than almost everyone in the bar. “Hello ladies,” Casey smiled and kissed Amanda on the cheek, her eyes lighting up like diamonds in the sky.

“Casey!” Amanda said, hugging him. We weren’t leaving just yet.

A cocktail waitress walked over with a whiskey colored drink in her hand. “Hi. Are you Alexa?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“This manhattan is for you. It’s a house specialty. Compliments of Marco. Enjoy,” she said and handed it to me.

I took a sip. “Oof. It’s quite strong.” I recoiled a little bit at the taste.

“Marco says it’s special for you,” the waitress added.

“It’s fine,” Casey interjected. “He always buys drinks for girls who pick up weed from him personally.”

“Oh yeah? Well does he also wave a gun around in front of them?”

“He did what?” Casey furrowed his brow.

“It’s okay,” Amanda added. “Your brother came to the rescue, so to speak.”

“I guess I’ll finish this one drink,” I said. I didn’t feel like giving Casey a full explanation of Corbin and I’s day full of strange coincidences. “And then I’m heading home.”

I needed to get home, get some rest, and process what just happened. I figured I’d leave these two little lovebirds alone to do their thing.