Page 72 of Loving Smoke

“You know the doctor said I’ll be perfectly fine in a few days.”

“Just making sure, cause that can get infected. All kinds of bad shit can happen and?—”

I pressed my lips to his, then pulled back keeping our faces only inches apart. “I’m sure the doctor took care of it properly.”

“Crazy shit that the same bullet that grazed you was the one that hit my shoulder. In a way we saved each other.”

“True, but I’m sure you’ve seen and probably had much worse than my minor injury.”

“It’s the first time with someone who . . .”

He didn’t finish the sentence and I didn’t push him for two reasons. Fear of not liking the ending or liking it too much.

“You really are amazing, but I got one question. How did you get past those guards in your father’s office?”

“Easy when you’ve studied Jiu-Jitsu and have men who underestimate your abilities.” I ended my sentence with a sly smile.

“Shit, you are unbelievable.” Smoke rubbed at his jaw. “So, I guess I better be careful not to piss you off or you’ll lay me out too.”

“Only in the best of ways.” I yawned. “There’s so many things we need to talk about and find out about each other but . . .”

“We will, but know this, I want you by my side no matter what.” His soft kiss calmed my insecurities. I snuggled into him and sleep slipped over both of us.

EPILOGUE

Six weeks later, I stood in the expanded VIP area with my arms crossed over my chest surveying my kingdom. If you told me a year ago I’d be running one of the biggest strip clubs in Tijuana or one of the largest earners for the Royal Bastards I would’ve said you were fuckin’ crazy.

But here I was loving every minute with a good woman at my side and a group of brothers who were far from perfect—which made them just right. Perfection was highly overrated especially when you were talking about an outlaw MC clawing our way out against all odds.

We hired the same crew who handled the original renovations to enlarge the first floor including the VIP area with Ricky overseeing the job. Then we added rooms for private dances, a larger storeroom for the liquor, and a secluded space for our weekly church meetings.

Manny had his own office where he put his accounting skills into practice and installed four monitors, each one surveying different parts of the club.

Marisol nudged me jogging me out of my thoughts. “You should be very proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

I smiled down at my petite spitfire because in a roundabout way without her none of this would’ve happened. “I’m proud of us.” I tugged her to my side and extended my arm around the room. “All of us. There wasn’t one fuckin’ person in our corner when we landed in Tijuana, and yet here we are stronger than ever.”

“It’s definitely a combined effort, but you were the driving force. You and Blood are the ones everyone runs to when there’s trouble.”

Trouble. We sure as shit knew about that.

After the ambush at Rico’s villa the other cartel bosses in Mexico came out of the woodwork with their hands out expecting what they considered their fair share. We sat in on a few tense meetings, one where guns were drawn until Manny stepped in and declared himself the reigning heir of Rico’s holdings. Seemed even though Manny hated his father, he listened when he explained the workings of the cartel. Manny also knew all the players and where they fit into this intricate chess game.

In the end, the other members of the cartel agreed to let the Royal Bastards prosper in Tijuana promising we would keep our hands off any and all of their enterprises. We still made sure we covered our backs, but for now it was a working arrangement agreed on by all.

Shit, with the money we confiscated from Rico’s villa, our chapter was set for a good long time. I’d already talked to Jameson about plans of bringing The Tropics to other cities in Mexico.

Tonight’s invitation only party celebrated Bolt, Ricky, Manny, and Diesel becoming official members of the Royal Bastards. Jameson sanctioned the new members and even used words like proud and nice job. Sounds crazy that a hard ass like me got off on it, but I did. Making my club and my chapter prez happy meant a lot, and fuck me, but I couldn’t deny it.

Marisol and I fell into an easy arrangement and after the night at Rico’s villa, she never left my side. She had her silent moments as she worked through shit, but her strength blew me away, plus her first-rate ideas for making the club more upscale. She’d done some research on mixology and crafting cocktails, then taught the other bartenders how to make these exotic drinks featuring a different one every night. I never would’ve believed it could be a success in a strip club, but the tourists loved it, and even the locals were enjoying it.

Just give me a shot glass and a bottle of Jack, but the customers came just to watch Marisol and her staff flip bottles and pour these different concoctions. She also managed the bar which included keeping track of the other bartenders and their schedules, along with ordering and invoicing all the liquor deliveries. It turned out she loved interacting with the customers and making sure everyone was happy on both sides of the bar.

“Big night, got to get back to work.” Marisol leaned up for a kiss then headed behind the bar.

Yup, I was one lucky fucker.

“Well brother, who the fuck would’ve believed it.” Blood slapped me on the back. “When we walked in this place six months ago the whole damn place was a fallin’ down rat trap and now . . . Gotta say, you waded through some deep shit with this one.”

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