twenty-four
Blake “Quick” Mahone wasn’t feeling very quick. Tired was more apt a word for his emotional state. Of course there was another problem. Of course it had to involve one of his men and his woman. Of course they all had to get involved, because that was what a brotherhood was for. But honest to God, would they ever reach a truly peaceful state of living, where they could go back to a simple life of watching out for one another and their families, as well as their community? Shit these days was off the hook and downright crazy. He needed a fucking break.
“So homeboy has possession of Moose’s girlfriend’s sister, and he wants us to go in there, guns not blazing, and, as civilized folk, request that the dude release the willing hostage, pack his shit, and get the hell out of Dodge before we break a toe off in his ass. Am I getting this right?” Repo asked, eyes swiveling around the table.
Within an hour of the call from Moose coming in, Blake had assembled the team and, at the ass crack of dawn, grouchy, red-eyed, and in various states of cleanliness, the lot of the Spartan men had shown up around the table for a brief church meeting to discuss the matter at hand, what Blake was calling: Operation Investigate the Latino.
“That’s the basics of it, yeah,” Moose agreed, hopeful.
Blake wasn’t convinced that the girl was in any real danger, seeing as she had apparently chosen to engage and involve herself with the guy, but she was family to a woman that his brother intended to claim for his own, so that meant everyone was involved because family was family was family, no matter how far removed. Right? Right.
So in they were going.
Blake sighed. There wasn’t enough booze in the entire state for a day like this.
“Then we’d better get packing and on the bikes,” he instructed. “I have a two o’clock at the dentist, and Gabby said if I don’t make it to this one, she’s getting the pliers out. I don’t think she was playing.” He grimaced, thinking of that woman and her threats. He’d like to say they were idle, but she was pregnant and a touch on the crazy side. She’d rip his teeth out in a heartbeat, then go after his balls for that whole vasectomy thing she kept talking about.
Jesus, no more kids. Three was enough for both of them. Once this kid popped out, he was driving himself to the doc for a little snip and clip.
The guys were all looking at him like he’d lost his ever-loving mind, which he likely had. Losing sleep at night due to babies and a wife who flipped back and forth from wanting sex to craving middle-of-the night snacks was wearing him down to the bone. He’d be glad to get back to some form of normal again.
Parties, gatherings, a nice, leisurely ride down the countryside was where it was at. That was the stuff dreams were made of.
“Lost ya again, Prez,” someone said, and Blake snapped himself out of his thoughts to look around at his men.
“Let’s get moving,” he said with a grunt as he pushed away from the table and stood.
They all rose, the plan that was discussed fresh in their minds: They were riding out to the Contreras Estate, formerly the Cruiz abode, both twisted as fuck people with sordid and violent pasts, to talk shop and negotiate shit.
Moose said he’d already told the guy they were coming, and apparently coffee was on and waiting. Good. Blake needed a few shots of caffeine this morning. The guy was rich, so that probably meant the beans he bought were quality. He hated the guy, but he’d take advantage of high-quality, expensive-ass-coffee any damn day, believe that.
The sun was almost overhead by the time they rolled up to the tall wrought-iron gates. The guards must have been waiting for them because as soon as they pulled up on their bikes, the gates whined their way open to let them pass.
Blake led the way down the dappled sunlit path into a circular courtyard surrounding a giant fountain, parking his bike dead center in front of the stone steps leading up to a door that was at least eight feet tall and had bigger handles on them than his feet were long.
Again, they were expected. One by one, Blake and his men dropped their kickstands and dismounted their bikes, climbing those steps with confidence none of them felt but had to ignore. This was uncharted territory, attempting to make peace with a monster. The house, however, had already been mapped—at least the first floor—from the last time they’d been in it.
The moment they stepped inside, Blake’s attention was drawn to a stunningly beautiful woman descending the staircase. Dressed in a flowing white cotton jumpsuit with spaghetti straps that pulled the eye to her naturally tanned skin and up to her long, dark hair that caught and reflected the sunlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he and the rest of his crew paused, momentarily stunned by the sight.
“Heath?” She cracked a tiny but hesitant smile that was full of questions. Questions that Blake had as well…until he glanced over to catch Cricket’s warm and completely adoring smile. Putting two and two together from there wasn’t hard.
So this was the toothpaste chick. The one he’d been spending his time with, going on dates, yadda, yadda. And from her coloring and where they were standing right now, she was also a heap of trouble. Blake cast a look to Repo, and his VP’s expression seemed to agree.
Just what they needed: A brother hooking up with the enemy’s kid. Fuck him, but even without Moose’s woman’s sister drama, they were all screwed seven ways to Sunday.
Reserving his words for the battle he’d come there for, Blake left Cricket to do whatever damage control he had to do and bypassed the waiting butler or whatever he was, ignoring his “sir” and “please, let me call ahead” and arrowed a path straight to the office he’d found the guy in last time.
And just like last time, there the devil sat, on his throne, behind a table made of wood so dark, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’d been forged in the fires of Hell itself.
Okay, he was being dramatic. See? He needed coffee.
“Ah, you’re here. I wasn’t sure of what time, so I’ve had coffee waiting if you—oh, okay then. Help yourselves,” the man of the hour said as Blake ignored him and went straight to the side table pushed up against a wall covered in what looked like blue and cream silk patterned wallpaper where a buffet type setup had been made, consisting of mugs and a big, fancy silver pot on a warming disk, creamers of various brands and flavors, a sugar dish filled with perfect sugar cubes, and an assortment of cookies.
“How sweet of you to think of us,” Taco commented as Blake wedged a hard cookie between his teeth and poured himself a cup of Joe, taking a minute to doctor it up just the way he liked before claiming the seat across from Contreras’s desk that put them eye to eye, man to man.
Chomping at the cookie, he unapologetically brushed the pile of crumbs that fell onto his chest to the floor. The maids would clean it up, he was sure of it. Didn’t mean the guy liked the mess, which he didn’t, clearly by the way his jaw popped, but that just put Blake back in good spirits.
Jacking a boot up onto his knee, Blake regarded the man seriously. “So here’s the deal. We need the girl outta here and back home with her sister, for you to forget she exists, and to get the fuck out of our county.”
Contreras’s bored expression and the way he tapped the fingers of one hand on the desktop made him think he’d been expecting Blake’s generous offer and had already planned a counter offer. “That doesn’t work for me. How about the girl decides what she wants for herself, and if that’s me, you people will forget we exist, and I stay right here. I have roots in this county now, and I plan to stick around.”
“Over my dead body,” Repo snapped.
Contreras shrugged as if to say that it could be arranged. “The problem here is you’re trying to control lives, and that’s not how things work in this world. Not in my world, anyway. Rena has made her decision.”
“I’d like to hear that from her mouth myself,” Blake told him. He hated that the man had a point, but he wasn’t going to leave these grounds until he heard it with his own ears—and believed it—that she was here by choice and didn’t need their help. Beyond that, Moose and his girl needed to understand that was the limit of his ability here. He wasn’t going to wage another war over something that wasn’t even wanted.
Leaning forward, Contreras hit a button on the phone which turned out to be some kind of intercom. “I need you in the office.” To Blake, he said, “She’ll be right down.”
They waited a few minutes, and by the time Rena appeared, Blake had finished his cup of coffee and had fixed himself another. She was wearing black leggings and an oversized, off-the-shoulder green sweater, her hair flowing down around her shoulders, and she looked…happy enough.
He watched as she went right to the guy and stood at his side. The hand that reached up to stake its claim on her back was automatic, not intended for show, which told Blake all he needed to know. But he waited anyway.
“Tell them what you want,” Contreras urged softly, not threateningly at all.
Looking at each of them, Rena said, “I know my sister wants what’s best for me, and she thinks she knows what that is better than I do. She doesn’t really. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, which is probably why she’s overreacting now and why you’re all here, but even if I am making a mistake” –she looked down at the man beside her and gave him a half-smile that Blake couldn’t dismiss—“it’s mine to make. I’m sorry, Kade, if that puts you in a bad position, but I’m a woman now with my own thoughts, and I can make my own choices, even if she or any of you don’t agree with them. I’ve made my choice. This is where I want to be.”
Stonily, Moose asked, “Are you sure you’re sure about this? You can’t possibly know this guy. The things he’s done…” He shook his head. They all knew he’d lost the argument well before he walked through the door.
“I’m positive. I’ll talk to my sister later, but if you see her first, then please tell her I’m okay and not to worry. She doesn’t have to look out for me anymore. I can handle myself.”
Blake had seen all he needed to. He just had one more order of business to take care of. “Good. Now that we have that sorted, when are you leaving?”
Contreras cast Rena a soft but commanding look, and with a gentle pat on the back, she smiled and left the room. The look he gave them next wasn’t nearly as nice. “I already told you, I’m staying right here. This is my home now.”
“You mean this is where you conduct your business. Which we don’t want. At all.”
“And we’re going to burn it to the ground before we allow you to sink this county and its people into the ground any more than you already have,” Moose backed Blake up.
“Ah, so I see now what the problem is here. You think I’m to blame for the influx of drugs and prostitution?” Wasn’t he? “No. That would be Victor. I sell him arms, and when he comes through, he does a little business of his own. I don’t like the impression he leaves any more than you do, which is why I have been working on a plan to sever my ties with him, permanently.”
“I don’t want another war on my turf,” Blake warned.
“If everything goes to plan, then it won’t come to that.”
Blake didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t like the options on the table either. He already knew the sister thing was a longshot, and it had gone about the way he’d expected. He hadn’t banked on the whole daughter-biker-dating angle, though, and he didn’t want a shootout over that whole can of worms happening today. Or any day, even though it might come to that. There was no way to know for sure if Contreras knew Cricket and his daughter were involved, but he wasn’t about to ask. That was potential suicide. Let the daughter work that shit out. A man’s little girl only had to beg a little to make her daddy fold, and he didn’t care who Contreras was, if his baby girl asked nice enough, he was gonna turn into a house of cards on a windy day.
“All right,” Blake drawled, “I’m listening.”